


Scent of Need

by gatekat, Verilidaine



Series: Creatrix'verse [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Consensual Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mech Preg, Spark Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-19 14:52:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2392364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verilidaine/pseuds/Verilidaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After ages without any new creations, one Creatrix (carrier) among the Autobots goes into heat. Chaos, pleading, hunting and eventual pouncing follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Lingual notes: Attar (sire), Creatrix (carrier), Summa (neutral/neuter)

Mirage sighed as he checked his spark temperature for the fifth time that orn, entered the result into his logs, and then leaned back in his chair. There was no mistaking it.

::Ratchet? If you are available, may I have a moment of your time?::

::I am, and with great hesitation, yes,:: the medic grouched. ::I know as soon as you're here someone will be dying somewhere, but let's give it a try.::

::Thank you,:: Mirage said as he gathered himself up, vanished, and slipped into the hallway. 

He only shimmed back into visibility once he was standing in Ratchet's medbay office, making the older 'bot jump out of his chair. "Fraggit, Mirage!" 

"I am sorry," Mirage said. "I thought it was best if no one saw me coming here." 

Ratchet closed and locked the door, gesturing for Mirage to sit. "I have a feeling I know what this is going to be about," he said with a heavy sigh. 

"My spark temperature is rising and the reproductive coding has come online," Mirage said simply. "Within three orns there will be considerable chaos anywhere I go."

"Damn," Ratchet said, shaking his head as he sat down and pulled out a scanner, starting to take surface readings. " _Damn._ When was the last time you were in heat? Do you have an Attar ... no, if you did this would be easier." He rubbed his chevron.

"My first and only creation had just received mechling upgrades when the Towers fell." Mirage managed to keep his voice steady. "My Attar is long grayed."

"So ... are you going to ride it out, or accept a new one for this creation?" Ratchet focused on the important parts to him. "Given how much time has passed, this will likely be an intense cycle."

"This is the wrong time to bring another life into the world, no matter what my systems may believe," Mirage said with a slight incline of his helm. "I wanted to know if you had any way to forestall the heat, or mute it. There are too many Attars on this ship, and in such close quarters..."

"We could have an energon bath." Ratchet grimaced. "I don't, nothing that would buy more than a few orns at any rate. Anything strong enough to knock the cycle out would almost deactivate you, and it would just reactivate when you were in good repair and fuel again for any length of time. All I can offer is a few devices that might ease your suffering until it burns itself out and the energon you'll need. If anyone can hide, it's you."

"I thought as much," Mirage said with a sigh. "I have been expecting this for some time, and have prepared as well as I can in terms of, ah, _devices._ I believe the best option would be to fortify my quarters and wait the cycle out. In case of emergencies, I must, unfortunately, be close by."

Ratchet nodded, even as he twitched at the thought of what kind of emergencies would send a Creatrix in heat into action. "So you have your fortification, toys, and you'll have energon. Who else, besides Prowl and Jazz, should I inform?"

A confused look passed over Mirage's face. "I assumed you would alert all the Attars." 

"I will," Ratchet said. "I mean to speak with them as your COs." 

"Ah." Mirage flushed at the mistake. "I believe alerting Jazz, Prowl, and Prime should suffice. This should be enough warning for them to alter any plans."

"I will then," Ratchet drew in a deep, cleansing vent of air. "Do you know if your cycle runs short or long?"

"Long," Mirage said with a sigh. "All the Creatrixes in my family run long. I've only had one cycle, but it seemed to indicate the same tendency in me." 

"I've known some Creatrixes who take comfort in having Summas nearby, would you like me to talk to anyone for you?" Ratchet asked.

Mirage shook his helm. "Though I believe I might, the Ops coding and training might make me too dangerous for any on Earth. Whiplash ... but he's on Cybertron, if he even still functions. No one else in Ops on Earth is a Summa or Creatrix. The few I trust to handle what I become when feeling cornered and threatened are all Attar." A low x-vent escaped him. "You could, but you're needed out here far more than I need comfort. I will comm you if I need anything," he promised as he stood. "Thank you for taking care of informing mecha."

"I'll still be checking in on you," Ratchet promised. "If I am unable, First Aid or Perceptor will come. Lock yourself in tight. Unfortunately, the ventilation systems in here carry your scent, but I am hopeful that without a specific source, we will see no more than some anxiety and stress from the Attars."

Mirage inclined his helm in agreement and left. 

* * *

Of the three officers waiting for Ratchet in the Prime's office, only Jazz seemed calm, but none of them were fooled. The SpecOps commander was as unsettled as anyone that Ratchet wanted to speak with them about Mirage. He was, perhaps, even more unsettled than his mate or Prime. He knew the kind of chaos that a Creatrix in heat could create. Pit, he knew the kind of chaos that _he_ could create when he caught a Creatrix in heat. Letting them into Ops had created some tactical challenges that were much easier with an entire planet equipped with structures built to help; separated circulation systems, underground buildings. It helped that the stress of war and lack of energon had kept the coding dormant for so long.

Earth ... Earth had few options. The sections of the Ark that would have been most useful were destroyed. He rather hated that his first thoughts on hearing from Mirage what was happening, right after _mine_ , were how to use it to scramble the Decepticon's ability to focus and maybe get them to off a few of their own infighting before a full assault. He was sure that would be the first place Prowl went, and would probably only get to _mine_ later. There were times where Jazz doubted his wonderful mate was an Attar, and then there were moments that reminded Jazz that Prowl had begun existence in what was essentially Praxian Black Ops.

When Ratchet stepped into the office his expression was grim as he took in the three mechs, two Attar and the forced Summa that was their Prime. A stray thought crossed Ratchet's processor that Optimus had probably been a Creatrix before his reformat, but it was difficult to tell. He knew without a doubt that Elita was an Attar, a dominant one at that.

"Well," he said heavily, seeing no point in delaying the news. "Mirage will be in heat in a few orns. The circulation on this ship is not sufficient to separate him from the crew, and he feels--and I agree--that leaving the Ark would be unwise. He would be without protection on an unfamiliar planet, and there is no telling how able he will be to defend himself once it hits." 

"That is unfortunate," Optimus said with a sigh. 

"'S an understatement, boss," Jazz snorted.

Prowl rubbed his chevron shield with a muffled groan. "With twenty-six Attar on board, this will be a disciplinary nightmare. What are the odds he'll set the remaining three Creatrixes off?"

"Since I've never dropped four Creatrixes into stasis for several millennia and then studied the effect when forced to confined quarters..." Ratchet said dryly. "But I don't think he will. 'Evidence' of Creatrixes setting each other off is anecdotal at best." 

"I'm gonna want him," Jazz said with a frown. "Bad." 

"All the Attar will," Optimus said.

"Far more dangerous to our survival is what it will do to me," Prowl let out a small vent of air. "At best I will be severely distracted. At worst I will turn my training against my competitors." Prowl gave a glance at Optimus. "I recommend arranging as many missions as possible for as many Attar as possible. The fewer of us that are here, the lower the casualty count will be."

"We have enough well trained Summa to help keep the peace," Optimus said. "As well as ... sate the worst of desires. That service will be voluntary, security will not. Prowl, I would appreciate your help in the time you have left setting up a workable schedule."

"I am already working on it, sir," Prowl inclined his helm. "Many Attar are in relationships. They are likely to look to their lovers first, but that is a good idea." He rubbed his chevron and thought over those who wouldn't have their processors scrambled. "Yes, we have enough to maintain the base. A few of the weaker Attar may also be able to focus enough to work given how many of us are very strong. My experience has been that even a Creatrix in full heat standing there is not enough to drive one such as Bumblebee to challenge the likes of Springer or the twins. It would be enough for me, however." He glanced at Prime. "Consider your type to be a blessing. These events are never fun."

"We all have our parts to play," Optimus said with a small smile. "My type, as you say, will also never know the joy of creating. It is the price for peace." He looked up. "Ratchet, do you know how long his heat will last?"

"Given how long it's been for him, if it's over in less than fourteen orns, I'll be surprised," the medic admitted. "It'll be a hard one too, I expect. I promised to visit him. It might help if you do as well. If nothing else, we're both mecha even the most aggressive of Attar won't seriously challenge."

"For good reason," Jazz snickered. "We've all seen the results. Still not sure what's worse, your wrench or his 'I'm disappointed' look."

"The look," Prowl said without doubt.

Optimus heaved a sigh. "I don't know why everyone talks about the look," he said mournfully. 

"Yes, you do," his officers said in unison, drawing a small smile from their Prime. 

"It will not take them long to work out who is in heat," Optimus said. "With so few options. We will do everything in our power to ensure that Mirage's desires and choices are protected. We will get through this."

"He's a strong mech," Jazz spoke up, even as he appreciated the assurance. "One of the best hand to hand fighters we have, and I'm sure he's doing his own security with Red Alert watching out for him. I don't imagine there's much that could get in that room uninvited, and there are only two mecha who can beat him in a fight that I know of."

"You and ... ?" Optimus focused, wanting to know who Jazz believed was a genuine threat.

"The twins working together," Jazz said grimly. "Between them they have the skills to get in and force him."

"Then they will be the first to be assigned far away," Prowl decided. "You and I should be elsewhere as well. We are both among those who are a serious danger to others."

Jazz nodded. "Yeah. Much as I wanna stay and protect him." His gaze grew distant, then he shook his head sharply. "Yeah. Yeah, we've gotta go. Us, the twins, Springer ... better get Warpath gone, too. No one else can get past his security." 

Prowl nodded and pinged the file to Prime and Jazz. "Any modifications?"

"I approve," Prime said, as Jazz shook his helm, then leaned over to kiss his mate. 

"Could use with a get-away with ya, anyway," the saboteur purred. He wasn't sure whether he was excited or worried that Prowl didn't chastise him for it.

"We will need to do _some_ work, Jazz," Prowl's rich voice lit Jazz's lines on fire as he put a hand on his back to guide him out. "Right now, we both need to pack."

Ratchet and Prime watched them go until the door closed. "I'm glad they both have someone to burn the desires off with. Prowl's gotten much more stable since he accepted Jazz's advances."

"He has," Optimus agreed, and gave his old friend a tired smile. "We will have our work cut out for us."

"That we will, even with the worst of them gone," Ratchet groaned. "We need to get the Summa together to explain and see who's willing to 'face anybody who needs it."

Optimus nodded. "Prowl has just posted notices for two meetings tonight. During one, he and Jazz will be speaking with the other Attars. The other--" 

"--We will speak with the Summa," Ratchet said, nodding. "I just received the notice. All right. I will see you then." 

"Until then, old friend," Optimus said with a smile.

* * *

Mirage could feel the moment it started. _Heat_ washed through his frame, and he put down his datapad, and x-vented. 

His chambers were sealed as much as they could be, he had massive quantities of energon stashed away to get through the entire cycle, no small amount of coolant, and the ventilation systems were as blocked as he could manage without risking overheating. He was grateful that his boss was gone from the base. Of all the mecha here, Jazz was the one he honestly doubted he could keep out if the mech decided he was coming in, Mirage willing or not.

Just that thought was enough to make his valve cycle with a near-painful ache for want of strong Attar's spike to fill it.

It was going to be some very long orns until the cycle gave up.

He rolled over on his berth and pressed his face into the padding, gripping it and x-venting again. He would not give in. He was stronger than the heat. He couldn't create, and there weren't any on this planet of a class he would ever permit himself to create with. No one here was worthy of his frame.

A shudder passed through him as he thought of his Attar. Head and shoulders taller than Mirage, with such strong, dark blue hands made so elegant by the silver filigree. He didn't have to imagine what those hands felt like on him. He knew. He knew how incredible Storm Front was during a heat, how perfect those orns were. Easily the most wonderful of Mirage's too long life.

With a low whine, his hips lifted up into the air, he arched and kneaded. Storm Front had beaten all the other suitors in honorable competition, won the right to ask for Mirage's courtship during his first heat. 

During his second heat, they had kindled their first creation. They'd never had a chance to kindle their second. 

What Mirage wouldn't give to have Storm Front here. He could just imagine the strength against his back, filling him. He wondered if Trailbreaker would feel the same, or maybe Ironhide ... they would still be on the Ark...

 _No!_ Mirage yelled at himself silently, his frame shaking as the imagery enflamed his need. No, he would not imagine any others. He would not submit to the coding so quickly. Storm Front was the only one worthy of him. When he imagined anyone, it would be his mate.

He rocked under invisible, imaginary thrusts, felt his spark spinning in his chest. The air was getting hotter. He _needed_ someone inside. 

He didn't realize how loud his mewl was until he heard the pounding on the door. 

"Mirage? Mirage please, let me in! You sound like you need help in there. I know just how to make it all better," Bluestreak's babble was so tempting.

_Frag!_

How had one of them found him out so soon? 

"Go away," he rasped, and grabbed onto the padding to keep himself from running over to unlock the door.

"But you sound like you're hurting," Bluestreak pleaded. "Please, Mirage. Let me help. I just want to help. You know I'll never hurt you. I'll be so good to you."

Mirage's hips cocked forward, left his valve open to the air as he shuddered and grabbed a pillow, biting down on it. Yes, Bluestreak would be good. He'd be _so_ good. A sweet, caring Attar who would dote on him ceaselessly. Yes, Bluestreak tended to ramble, but he was a skilled marksmech and could provide security and protection for a little one--

Mirage groaned and tried to block the ceaseless, babbling pleas out. 

"Scat, youngin'," a deep, strong voice rumbled, earning a hiss of displeasure from Bluestreak, but the talkative Attar left, or at least quieted. Not that it brought relief, as Ironhide started banging on the door. "Open up now, Raj. Ya know ya need it."

" _I_ am fine," Mirage groaned. "Go _away!_ "

Fraggit all, the entire ship would know before long. Bluestreak must have been standing right there when it started. He must have been moaning.

"Yer not fine and ya know it!" Ironhide yelled back.

"Enough!" Optimus Prime's bellow silenced Ironhide immediately and Mirage almost sobbed in relief. Prime could send all these Attar scattering. Like so many Summa, he held the most power in society simply because he would never be distracted by creation.

There was a long klik of silence, and then Prime's voice came again, quieter. "My apologies, Mirage. We are trying to keep them away."

"Thank you," Mirage gasped as he curled up on his berth. "Thank you, Prime."


	2. Siberia

Jazz raced across the Siberian Steppes as fast as he dared in the roadless flat grasslands still locked in the frost of early spring. Prowl was right on his tail, pushing him, daring him to escape, trying to make him spin out. Even without the heat-scent from Mirage in his chem receptors, Prowl was in full predator mode and Jazz was happy to indulge him. So long as Jazz was in a mood to be taken rough, the interfacing was never better than when his mate was in this kind of mood and they had the space to indulge in a long chase.

Knowing that an unclaimed Creatrix they both cared about was in heat just made the chase faster, more aggressive. Jazz knew he would go down eventually, but he was happy to make his mate work for it. They both got off on it more and harder the harder the chase was. He had the tighter turn, which he used shamelessly to his advantage as he slammed the brakes and wrenched his wheels around, floating into a wide arc before hitting the acceleration and shooting in the opposite direction.

Prowl's sirens were loud in the silent wilderness as he fishtailed in his effort to mimic the 360 Jazz had managed, but it wasn't long before he found traction again and was roaring after Jazz, his engine redlined and the mech reveling in the chase, the difficulty, the purity of focus he was allowed in this and the freedom in knowing that he didn't need to hold his instincts in check once he caught up and took his prey down.

Jazz could handle it and hold his own; the SpecOps commander was one of the few in the Autobot army who boasted that fact. Even if he didn't always win, he always made it a challenge.

Prowl reveled in it. Reveled in the challenge and the fact that his mate occasionally won. Never when he was this full of need, but Jazz was that good. He made Prowl _burn_.

With a burst of speed that he shouldn't have been able to manage, Prowl rammed Jazz's left bumper and sent the slightly lighter mech into a spinout that gave Prowl just enough time to transform and pounce, rolling Jazz onto his alt-mode roof. The mech folded away beneath him and the first thing that hit back was Jazz's fist, right across his jaw, as pedes pushed up against his legs and the pin was flipped sideways.

Despite the pain, Prowl's grin was very real and his optics were bright, shining in betrayal of the near-insanity that gripped him at the end of a long, hard chase. With no effort to control his deepest coding, the hunting code from a cyber-wolf with the kill replaced by pin and spiking, Prowl was far more like Jazz than he was capable of admitting. He struck back, focused on grappling and seeking the pin that meant victory.

It was a hard fought battle, and Jazz pulled out the dirty hits in the end that left Prowl bruised and bleeding, and Jazz no better.

When the black helm was slammed into the ground and Jazz's optics flickered from the force, Prowl could taste victory and his engines revved. He got a stasis cuff on one wrist, and almost had lock around the other when Jazz could focus again and sent them tumbling down a small hill. It left Prowl on the bottom, but he hooked one leg around Jazz's and twisted his frame enough to throw his mate off balance.

The second cuff locked into place and Jazz's systems lost most mobility. It wasn't true stasis, he was still fully aware and somewhat mobile, but against an unhindered mecha, it left Jazz largely helpless as he was pushed to his back and his legs pushed apart.

Prowl's intent was as clear in his field as the quickly pressurizing spike between them. "Mine," he growled and leaned to cover his mate's frame with his own and claimed a harsh, demanding kiss.

Jazz pressed back with as much force as he was able to give as his cover slid back and his field stilled in surrender. Prowl had won; he was his.

 _Pleasure-pride-desire_ surged in Prowl's field as the kiss softened just a bit and he sank his spike fully into Jazz's valve with a smooth thrust, then paused, both of them reveling in the hard-fought-for pleasure of stretching and being stretched.

It only lasted a moment.

Then Prowl growled and grunted as he pulled back and drove forward again with his full strength again and again, burying himself in that slick heat he'd worked so hard to catch.

It was rough, painful, primal. Prowl's claws left scratches in Jazz's armor that had nothing to do with pinning him or pleasure. They were a visible mark of claiming. Jazz groaned, helm falling back to offer his neck up. When Prowl got like this, it was wild rutting until he was too worn out to move. 

And _frag_ did it ever turn Jazz on.

The roar of Prowl's first overload shook the very ground under them with its intensity. The flood of heat and charge against the deepest nodes inside his valve made Jazz's frame jerk sharply, right on the edge of bliss himself. Almost there ... the first driving thrust of Prowl second effort sent Jazz screaming into a whiteout.

He jerked with a silent scream and felt Prowl's denta close around his neck as he rode out the waves. Pain, pleasure, submission, helplessness, and so much more pleasure swirled through him as the driving thrusts continued, overload after overload, until Prowl was quivering with exhaustion over him on the tail of an overload, unable to rouse himself further. It was only at that point that Jazz realized his mate really was wound up in a kindling rage as the thick knot at the base of Prowl's spike was firmly lodged inside him.

His first instinct was to snarl, and Prowl's engine growled in answer, his denta pressing down against Jazz's neck again. 

_Stay. Settle._

Jazz hissed at the other Attar for daring to tie him, but the denta tightening around his neck again made him still, and then when it turned into a kiss, relax. Processors cleared and the low snarl in his engine shifted into a purr.

Prowl nuzzled him. "They'll be so strong, smart, beautiful," he whispered blurrily.

Jazz snorted, but let his dazed and quite likely high mate mumble praise to the imaginary Creatrix. He'd enjoy teasing him about it later, so for the present, he said nothing. 

The knotting felt incredibly strange, and frame-temperature fluid kept pulsing into his valve. In a Creatrix in heat, it would have been drawn up and saved for use in an eventual sparkling frame. In Jazz, it just pooled. Trying to distract himself from the sensation, Jazz refocused on their surroundings and realized that they'd have some work to do when the knot reduced enough for them to separate. There was nothing to be done about the incinerated earth under them, but the expanding ring of grass fire that they'd set off needed to be stopped before it burned too much further.

A breem and nearly a half acre of burned grass later, and Jazz couldn't have been more grateful when the knot began to depressurize, by which time Prowl had fallen silent and began to teek more normally.

"That was incredible," Prowl's next words sounded more like himself.

Jazz chuckled. "Ya with me again, lover?" he asked, tapping Prowl's forehelm.

"Yes, Jazz," Prowl looked up and scowled with a bit of worry. "Something unusual happened?"

"Well," Jazz said, and squirmed his hips a bit, just enough for what remained of the knot to pop free from his rim. His valve clenched down in an answering shudder and he groaned a little, fluid rushing out. "Ya kinda tied me."

Prowl cycled his optics a couple times and lifted his helm to look down at his mate and take in the damage he'd done. Doorwings gave a weak flutter of relief a moment later and Prowl sank back down. "I was more wound up just by knowing about Mirage than I thought then." He nuzzled Jazz's injured neck cables, then gently licked them to soothe. "Sorry about that."

"Hey, it was kinda hot," Jazz said with a grin. "Even if I'd really prefer watchin' ya tie someone else. It gotcha worked up, babe, y'all right?"

"Yes," Prowl promised as he arched his doorwings up to flutter the tension out of them. "It's not the first time it's happened." He gave a soft sigh and nuzzled his mate. "I forget sometimes that you don't know what an Ops agent back home would."

Jazz measured the speed of the small grass fire for a moment before focusing back on Prowl. It would be easy enough to put out and five more kliks wouldn't hurt anything. "Ya bred before?" he asked curiously.

"Nine times. Six legal, three less so," Prowl admitted, holding himself to the promise of honesty they had. "I wasn't in Praxus all that often."

Jazz nuzzled him. "Keep up with any of 'em?"

"All of them," Prowl snuggled in. "Helped support the illegal ones. It wasn't the Creatrixes fault I was in the area, or that their Attar weren't strong enough to beat me off."

Jazz's petting stilled for a moment. "So when ya say legal an' illegal ... we talkin' in a someone else's mate kinda way, or a not-an-Enforcer kinda way?"

Prowl took a moment to work out the question before answering. "Legal means it's been authorized by command. Mostly Enforcers, but sometimes a mated or bonded pair or triad will be granted it as well. Being a hunter, my coding runs far more violent and antisocial than most. It takes work to remember that simply taking isn't acceptable, and on the hunt, I often don't when there is no one to keep me in check."

Jazz nodded, the petting resuming. "'S hard for anyone ta keep a straight head around heat," he said. "Y' not the only one's ever done it."

"You?" Prowl looked up, somewhere between surprised and accepting with just a touch of curious.

Jazz shrugged. "I'm a scrapper in a fight," he said. "Gutters ... weren't a great place for any Creatrix to land but they got there, an' I came out on top a few times when there was one ta fight about."

"Did you keep up with any of them?" Prowl asked, curious about his mate's creations.

"Nah," Jazz said. "Didn't even know their designations, an' as soon as y' finished, there'd be another Attar right there ta push ya outta the way if y' weren't strong enough ta challenge again."

"Which if you mated right, you wouldn't," Prowl hummed, only to lift his helm to look around them as he realized there was fire. "We should deal with that before it gets out of control."

"I'm watchin' it," Jazz grumbled, unwilling to move.

"All right," Prowl settled again, even less inclined to move than his mate.

"'S a good thing we got away from the Ark," Jazz said as he settled in.

"Agreed," Prowl let out a soft sigh. "Mirage deserves a better chance than either of us would give him."


	3. Prowling the Ark

Ravage knew something was off as soon as she got into the Ark. Autobots were stalking about, glaring and grumbling, and she even saw two of them getting into a fist fight before they were forcefully pulled apart by two of the minibots. _Off_ was never a good thing, but as she crawled into one of the ventilation shafts and lifted her head up to sniff the air, it hit her: heat-scent.

Never in her existence had she been more glad to be a Summa like her host. She'd always thought of herself as an Attar, and definitely played the role among the symbiots and every Decepticon she could bully into submitting to her. But now it meant that she'd be one of the few in full possession of her wits, and her first priority became identifying where the more psychotic Autobot Attar were. The red and yellow Unmaker's Twins, Jazz and Prowl topped that list. If any of them were in the area, the Decepticons would need to lay low until the heat was over.

She made the usual rounds, checking offices and the brig, and it became quickly apparent that not only were those four gone, but all of the Autobots' most aggressive Attar were. Likely gone from the Ark until the heat was over, and to prevent what could be catastrophic infighting if whichever of the Creatrix was in heat showed any interest or even became attainable, it left the Autobots incredibly vulnerable.

It could be useful, but first it was important to know who was in heat. She moved on to check on Red Alert, being he was always the easiest to find. He was hidden away in his office as usual, staring at the screens. Smokescreen was in the common room with his legs spread for a group of Attar that needed the relief. Beachcomber was nowhere to be found, but that was hardly unusual.

As she neared Mirage's quarters, a path she found genuinely dangerous to travel, her nose told her long before she heard his needy whimpers that the spy was it.

 _That_ could be useful. The invisible noble could wreak terror on Lord Megatron's plans, but there was no way he'd venture out, not in his state. He'd be noticed by every Attar in a hic, invisible or not. He probably wouldn't make it out of the Ark, much less into and out of the Nemesis.

She crept the rest of the way forward to peer into his quarters and focused on the slender pale blue and white noble shaking on the berth, visibly fighting with himself as Ratchet's bellows and the clang of metal on metal signaled a suitor being shown off. She snickered to herself at the delightful chaos that the spy was creating among his own crew, then her ears perked at quiet, hurried pedesteps and she crouched down instinctively. 

"Mirage?" The voice was hushed. "I know I'm not very strong but I would take care of you, I'd never leave you, and I'm good, I promise, please I just want to help you you sound so miserable." 

"Blue, no," Mirage moaned, rolling off his berth and hitting the floor. He shoved his hand between his legs and rocked against it.

"Please, let me in. Let me take care of you. You don't need to be miserable. You're so beautiful, so graceful. You're the only one who can match me with a riffle. We'd have such ... _eek!_ "

"Away with you!" Ratchet's snarl wasn't quite as aggressive as it had been against Ironhide, but it wasn't taking no for an answer either.

"He should have a choice!" Bluestreak actually sounded ... authoritative. "We should have a _chance_."

"You see the pit-damned locked door?" Ratchet growled. "I didn't lock it, Prime didn't lock it, _he_ fraggin' locked it. He locked it good enough that _Jazz_ couldn't get in if he wanted. _That_ is his choice. Now get!"

Bluestreak didn't make a sound as he retreated.

"We're doing our best, Mirage," Ratchet said tiredly. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes, Ratchet, thank you," Mirage said hoarsely. "Will you--can you--can you come in, for a klik?"

"Of course," Ratchet said soothingly. "I'll make sure no one but me comes in, but you have to unlock the door."

"Right," Mirage said, shaking his helm as he climbed back up onto the berth. Ravage zoomed in on the spy and saw used toys all over the padding. The door opened and Ratchet slipped in quickly so it could close and lock behind him.

"What do you need?" Ratchet gave an open offer that was so unlike his wartime behavior, but very much like what he had been so long ago.

"I..." Mirage squirmed, looking at Ratchet and panting. "Toys aren't working, can't have an Attar, I'd like to try a Summa."

Ratchet simply nodded. "Who is your preference?"

"You," Mirage said. "Or First Aid. I need this to be an official medical procedure, and documented as such."

Another nod and Ratchet pulled out a datapad and quickly entered several things, then handed it to Mirage. "Consent form for the procedure. Sign that and I'll do all I can for you."

Mirage snatched it with shaking fingers and authorized. Ravage snickered again and curled up, incredibly interested to see how _this_ went. 

A Creatrix in heat trying to interface with a Summa? 

The idea was laughable, but the poor spy seemed desperate enough for anything. She watched as the spy sank onto the berth, on hands and knees with his aft in the air. It was weird to watch the medic begin to thrust into him with little apparent care. It was rather like watching Decepticons rut, except the one taking it was getting off a lot more than the one on top.

And even then, his grunts were more frustrated than pleasured, the way he tore at his padding was like a mech trying to _pull_ an overload into his frame, only it wasn't working. Not in the least. 

"Can you overload?" Mirage gasped after nearly ten kliks. "Maybe that--Primus--"

In response Ratchet groaned loudly and shuddered as he let go of the controls on his charge. Within three thrusts he let out a long, low groan and flooded Mirage's valve with nanite-free transfluid. It was hot, thick with charge and surged against nodes primed for an overload.

It was an overload that, at least to Ravage's optics, never came. At least, not in any kind of satisfying way. She saw static dancing over his frame and jumping up from the padding where he gripped it, but the way he rolled onto the spike, pushing and pulling desperately, didn't look like any real seizing of current. 

She snickered again and hoped her boss enjoyed watching one of his most irritating opponent's frustration.

Below her, Mirage cried in frustration and demanded more, something Ratchet seemed willing and able to give, but after three overloads the noble was willing to admit that it wasn't any good and they separated.

"Ratchet..." Mirage's voice was shaking as he curled in on himself. "Could you install a plug or something to stop the kindling?"

The medic shook his helm as he cleaned himself up. "I can install a plug to prevent fluid uptake, but once the Attar is done with that, there's no way to prevent the merge that will actually kindle."

"Someone ... Prime ... pulls him off?" Mirage suggested desperately.

Ratchet sighed and sat next to Mirage, putting a hand on his helm. "Is that what you really want, Mirage?" he asked. "We will do whatever we can for you, up to and including Prime pulling someone off of you if need be." 

"I want this to end," Mirage trembled at the touch. "Without creating."

Ratchet sighed again. "It may ease the need in your valve, but it will only shift it to your spark," he said gently. "It won't end the heat any sooner."

A soft, pain-filled keen escaped Mirage. "I will endure then."

"You're strong, Mirage," Ratchet said warmly, then glanced back at the muffled pleading and scuffling coming from the other side of the door. "Fraggin' morons. You want me to see if Skyfire can take you around the planet a few times, get away from everyone?"

"Yes!" Mirage couldn't help the desperate joy in his voice before he focused and settled himself. "Yes. Please. It is easier when I know that a suitable sire is not _right there_."

Ratchet snorted as Trailbreaker's voice became audible, followed by Cliffjumper's. "You got a funny idea of 'suitable' in my opinion," he said. 

"Bluestreak is there too, and Ironhide," Mirage shivered. "I'm glad Jazz chose to leave. I'm not sure I could resist him."

Ratchet gave an understanding huff. "All right, me an' Prime are gonna arm up and clear a path to Skyfire. We can't do it every day, but we'll see how many miles we can get outta that overeducated taxi before it's over." 

"Even a few joors would be a relief," Mirage managed to meet Ratchet's optics. "Thank you."

"Anything, kiddo," Ratchet said, brushed their helms together, then pulled out his wrench. 

As Ravage slunk away, she could hear yelling and clanging down the entire corridor. 


	4. Hunted

He saw it first in Teletraan's datanet and a new kind of tension rippled through his slender frame.

Decepticons.

Attacking the Ark.

Mirage could not shake the certainty that he was the real target. If he was captured, he knew what Megatron would do to him.

For a brief moment he entertained the thought of letting himself be caught by the warlord and using the heat against him and his army. Let them tear themselves up fighting over him, and he would have _relief_ , at least for a little while. 

He probably wouldn't make it out, but Jazz would understand his reasons and know that it had been in service of the Prime. That was all he needed. He didn't doubt for a nanoklik that Prowl would have multiple plans to take advantage of the distraction Mirage would cause among the Decepticons.

Sense returned a moment later as he heard the missing Attars began to return. The twins came first, then Jazz and Prowl. The battle was a brutal one from the sound of it, and Mirage huddled in his quarters, hating that he couldn't help, when it registered that one voice that should have been out there wasn't.

Soundwave.

He jerked upright. 

If Soundwave wasn't out there, that would mean...

The host was Summa. The host could capture him in this state and take him far away. Mirage had no doubts that Soundwave could hide him from his master until the heat was over, and then what would he be? 

A captive liability. 

The thought sent him scrambling up to his pedes and he jumped up to the vent in his chambers, squirming into it. He had to get away from the Ark and far away from the Nemesis. Familiarity made the escape from the half-buried ship easy enough, and Mirage looked out on a sunlit world full of dust, laser fire and battling mecha. Instinct had him pick out his own master first and his gaze lingered on the savagery of Jazz's movements for a long moment.

He desperately wanted to comm him, and let him know that everything was all right, and a not-terribly-insignificant part of that desire was centered on knowing that if he commed, Jazz would come to him, and steal him away, and then frag him senseless. 

Mirage bit down on his wrist to muffle the moan as he rocked there, struggling with himself. 

No, _no._

He did not want to carry now. It was not the right time. With effort he tore his gaze away from the battle and activated his disruptor field to skirt the edge in an effort to get away from them all. The planet was decent sized, with plenty of abandoned facilities that he could fortify against those who would come looking. He would find a place to hide and wait out the heat alone. Hopefully the battle would provide a significant enough distraction that he could be safe on his own.

He was nearly to the southern border of their host country when he realized it. He hadn't gotten away clean. Half a dozen Attar were on his trail.

He cursed, forced himself to keep pushing ahead. He shook the organics that tried to catch him from time to time in their inferior vehicles easily enough, but the Attar were going to be a much bigger problem. 

Two local days of driving later and he was exhausted, dirty, sore. He came across a rocky canyon and finally let himself come to a stop. He found a small cave and crawled into it, shaking from fatigue, and started scanning as he gulped down a concentrated ration of energon, one of several that were always in his subspace. The Attar were down to four now, and he heard them rush past his hiding place, still on the dusty flat of unpaved road. He had a few kliks at least.

As soon as he felt it was safe, he swung out of the cave and scrambled up the side of the cliff back onto the pavement. He wouldn't be as obvious on the road; if he went off it the dirt he kicked up would pinpoint him in an instant. 

He realized too late that there were still six pursuers, but two of them hadn't shot past with the others. A pointed scan told him just how much trouble he was in even as he raced away from the pair.

Jazz and Prowl.

It was no longer a matter of whether he'd be caught, but by which one. Or if the mated pair were close enough to try to share him somehow.

Would they court him? Would they even think to? He knew Jazz didn't have the upbringing to understand that Creatrix were to be pampered and indulged, courted and given all they asked for. He'd learned that the hard way as they came to terms with each other when Mirage had joined Ops. He wasn't nearly so sure what Prowl would know. An Enforcer should recognize societal norms, but did commoners treat Creatrix the way nobles did? He genuinely didn't know.

After a joor of running, he got into a densely forested area and ducked under a waterfall, then started to scale the cliff behind. 

Halfway up, he paused and looked back, and his spark clenched. 

They weren't working together. They were far enough apart to not be fighting, but they weren't working together. If they got close enough to each other, and to him, one of them could end up gray. He didn't want that to happen, but what could he do to stop it? Neither were capable of stopping unless they completely lost track of him, and he knew they were both skilled enough that only luck would pull that off.

Would Prowl recognize the choice if Mirage offered himself to Jazz?

Jazz spotted him before he could decide one way or the other, so he ducked back into the water and kept climbing. He forced his way through the current to the shore and collapsed there, panting, and it would be so easy to just give up and let one of them claim him. Though he liked Jazz better, they were both strong, intelligent, capable and high-ranking Attar. Either one would be a fine sire.

Despite the protests of his frame and code, the sound of them scaling the bluff was enough to get his wheels under him and driving once more.

It was halfway through the night when he let himself stop again, absolutely lost. He'd retreated into the mountains, hoping to put some space between himself and the Attar by using his flexibility and speed, instead of trying to outrace them, a battle he would never win. 

He gulped down fuel and reached down to rub one of his aching tires. The rubber was shredded and mangled, full of debris, and even putting his weight on them hurt. 

Noise from behind made him jerk around in time to see moonlight glinting off of Prowl's hood as he stalked closer. Mirage was losing ground. 

"'Raj..." That was Jazz's whisper, somewhere close. "Rest, Mirage." 

Mirage groaned and forced himself up and kept running. Every step was pain now, every leap a strain. He'd kept going in worse shape, but those had always been times when he knew that to stop was to deactivate or worse. Now, stopping meant being cared for, indulged and for the incessant ache in his valve to be eased. Everything told him to stop, everything but his awareness of the consequences.

A low, painful groan escaped him as he leapt over a small rise and found himself staring at wide open grasslands that went on beyond the horizon. He had to go for it. Behind him, the two Attar who could kill each other in a fight. In front of him... 

His engines weren't as powerful as either of the Attars', not on his best day, and right now, he was being dragged down by exhaustion and the craving to give in. Jazz and Prowl were being driven by a need that would never let them rest. 

He had to try.

Down on torn and tattered wheels, Mirage took off over the grasslands, kicking up dust. It made him obvious, but the pair behind him were close enough it hardly mattered. They would see him either way. The roar and sirens of Prowl's pursuit drove him on, harder than he expected he could still go, but both engines still were gaining on him. The only choice he had now was how, and to an extent where it would end. He could run until one of them knocked him off his tires, or he could chose a place nearby and throw himself at Jazz in the hope that Prowl would respect the choice.

Before he could decide on a stopping point, _mass_ struck into him from behind, sending him skidding. He transformed as he came to a rolling stop, collapsing there, panting heavily. A frame came over his, a hand went to his neck, and then there was a sharp scream as the other collided with the first and pushed him off. The part of Mirage that still didn't want to create right now was screaming at him to get up and use the distraction to put some distance between himself and whoever won. The rest simply stared at Jazz and Prowl as they wrestled and punched and kicked, trying to force the other to back down.

The one time he did try to move, both of them were on top of him in an instant, snarling until he stilled, before they tore back into each other. 

Fighting over him. 

Fighting _for_ him, for the honor of claiming him.

He silently prayed to Primus to not to let them seriously hurt each other. The fight was savage, their wild screams terrible. They were both Autobots, they were _mates_ , intending to bond when it was safe enough. He couldn't be the cause of one extinguishing the other. Beyond the damage to the cause, there was the damage to one of the few mecha who seemed to honestly care for him.

Whether Jazz won or lost, let them both survive.

But then Prowl struck out, and Jazz dropped to the ground and didn't move. Energon was pooling around his motionless frame. 

And then wild, ice blue optics latched onto him and Mirage scrambled up to his pedes and tried to run. He made it all of two paces before Prowl tackled him. The Attar's field was fierce, fixated and completely devoid of the calculated nature that had been central to every other interaction Mirage had with him. Prowl wrenched him around and pinned him on his back and got a knee between his legs to spread them, but Mirage could hear the roar of jet engines above them and looked up in time with Prowl to see Skyfire circling down.

Prowl snarled at the threat to his prize and Mirage arched, and then whined for the Attar. His cover was already pulled away, and all he could think about when he felt Prowl's hips come flush with his own was the relief that was being offered. 

Prowl had proven himself strongest, and now Mirage _needed_ him. It was enough to draw Prowl's attention back down and without hesitation he drove his spike all the way into the impossibly slick passage with a deep groan of relief that Mirage echoed. It left them both vulnerable, largely oblivious to their surroundings as they focused on what their coding was driving them to.

When the intruders were close enough to teek, they were identified and then immediately ignored. Summa were not a threat to an Attar's claim, so Prowl sank even deeper into the long-familiar rutting of the breeding cycle. Mirage keened with relief. Why had he been running for so long? He couldn't remember. 

Exhaustion melted away into the frenzied, driving need of slaking the burning arousal. Prowl rutted into him, one hand tight on his neck and the other digging into his shoulder. 

The first overload was bliss, wiping away the last decaorn of frustration and arousal in a single crack, but it was barely past before Mirage was rolling his hips again, demanding more from the Attar. 

Prowl didn't hesitate. The overloads came fast, hard and easily, spurred on both by coding and by the impossibly responsive being he was with. Eventually not even he could continue on though, and his final overload sent him into a mild reboot as he collapsed on top of his prize. Nuzzling and stroking, glyphs of praise came easily for the Creatrix that had forced such a long hunt. They'd have such strong, fast, smart creations.

Mirage nodded, trembling with exhaustion and relief. He couldn't have moved if he wanted to. He could feel Prowl's knot tying him into the mating. He shifted, and Prowl pressed down, so he stilled and relaxed, focusing on the present moment and the _relief_ that mating brought both of them. 

After a while, movement to the side drew their attention to see Ratchet helping Jazz to sit. His hands were stained with the saboteur's energon, and Mirage wondered idly how close to deactivation his commander had been. 

Sated, tied and with an unresisting Creatrix under him, Prowl looked over lazily at the moment and there was a wash of relief through his field as his thoughts briefly cleared.

"I'll be getting him out of here shortly," Ratchet called over to the tied pair.

"No," Jazz's firm voice countered. "It's over. I'm staying to protect them. As long as I don't challenge again, he won't attack again. We both know those rules."

Ratchet scowled.

"Look, I know it's sick and wrong by civilized standards, but it's what we were both raised with," Jazz shrugged as he settled on his aft to look at his mate and his SIC as they recovered. He looked directly at Prowl. "We'll make it up to him when the coding's calmed down enough for it."

The Praxian gave a rumble that might have been agreement, but at least wasn't disagreement.

"How do you know you won't challenge him as soon as I'm gone?" Ratchet asked with a growl as he started wiping his hands off on an already-soaked rag. "I'm not leaving you here just to get torn up again, his heat won't end for orns yet."

Jazz focused on his mate, then leveled his gaze onto Ratchet. "Because I'm not now. _This_ is when I'd do it, if I was going to. Prowl's worn out. Won't be long before the knot will go down and I could pull him off if I wanted, but that's not how it's going." He dropped his gaze a bit. "'Sides, I learned my lesson. Jacked up on heat-scent, I'm no match for him. We'll be mates again soon, and then Mirage's creation will be as much mine as Prowl's."

Mirage's spark clenched. 

Creation. 

That was why he was running. He _couldn't_ bring a creation into this world, this fragged up joke of a world. 

"No," Mirage said, very clearly. His head felt clear for the first time in orns. "I won't create."

Prowl arched up in display and growled at him. "You are caught."

"Will you force me?" Mirage asked calmly, but his voice was shaking at the low, vibrating growl he could feel in the Enforcer's engines. How could an _Enforcer_ even hesitate with the answer? Even commoners didn't believe in force against a Creatrix. It was a crime in every city. Everywhere. A severe crime.

"No," Prowl grunted, still staring at Mirage with a scowl. "I will convince you that you want me."

Mirage x-vented and felt the tension drain from his frame. "I can outlast you," he said.

Something wicked flared in Prowl's field and his grin along with supreme confidence. "No one outlasts a Praxian hunter. I am the best they produced."

"He's not bragging," Jazz said quietly, mostly to the uneasy medic next to him. "But then, I trained Mirage to be the best and he's stood up to Soundwave. It'll be an interesting contest given how few resources Prowl has out here to use."

"I don't want to know about it," Ratchet grumbled as he gave up on his hands and transformed. "I have to get back. Staying or going?" 

"Staying," Jazz murmured, resting his chin in his hands as he watched the pair with a bright visor. "Prowl might need help. And I don't know where the others are, don't wanna risk them stumblin' across us." 

"If I try to take Mirage with me, what happens?" Ratchet asked as Skyfire lingered behind him, waiting to leave. 

"I do everything in my power ta stop ya," Jazz said calmly. 

"You're still heat-crazed." 

Jazz's mouth quirked up. "Think so." 

Ratchet shook his helm. "A Summa will be by in a day or two to check on things."

"'Kay," Jazz nodded, his gaze still on Prowl until he heard Skyfire take off. "Ya know, even bleeding out that was hot as hell ta watch."

Prowl scowled. "That was a precision takedown."

"Of the Sunshine variety," Jazz chuckled. "Ya hit _hard_ , my love."

"He doesn't want to create," Prowl said, pressing his face against Mirage's neck to lick and kiss, the worst of the insanity gone while his frame produced more transfluid.

"I heard," Jazz said, and shifted forward a little. Prowl's doorwings tensed and Jazz eased back in respect of the other Attar's claim. _Heat_ was still in his mind, his lines, but he'd challenged and lost. If nothing else, he understood that small civility. If Prowl left for any reason, he would have Mirage, but until then, all he could do was watch and guard.

"It is the wrong time," Mirage stroked Prowl's helm and neck even as he relaxed his helm to accept the attention. "I cannot be out of commission that long. No sparkling should suffer being created in war and far from home."

"Makes sense. Your coding says otherwise," Jazz commented as Prowl contemplated the logic.

"The timing made you resist?" Prowl asked as he shifted to look Mirage in the optics. His knot was shrinking, but they were still tied.

"Everything made me resist," Mirage said. "I have no mate, no House, we're stuck on this mudball of a planet as our own lies in ruin." 

"We'd be good to ya, 'Raj," Jazz said, pitching his voice down. 

"Jazz," Mirage sighed. "I can't."

"Won't," Prowl corrected. "You won't. So we have to change your mind."

Mirage hissed quietly, but exhaustion was catching up with him and he didn't argue. He was absently glad that Prowl didn't do much other than growl his engine lightly in rebuttal to the hiss. They both shuddered when Prowl finally pulled out.

"Let's get somewhere more defensible," Prowl said as he helped Mirage up, felt how badly off the mech was and promptly slung him over his shoulder to walk back to the mountains they'd left not so long ago.

* * *

Jazz was the first to rouse after they all sank into recharge in a deep ravine sheltered from Seekers overhead. His first glance was towards Mirage, and he couldn't be surprised that Prowl was sprawled on top of him, though he was disappointed. His next look was around, and finding nothing threatening, he groaned softly from the aches of his repairs.

Prowl was going to need some similar repairs, once he was content to be pulled away from his claim, but even Ratchet wasn't that crazy. Summas might not be a threat to come close, but to try to pull an Attar off in the middle of mating? 

Easily suicidal if that Attar was Prowl. 

Jazz crept forward towards the recharging pair, silent, wanting to get a better look at the injuries he'd inflicted and to see if any of them might warrant some field repairs while the Praxian was out. He could teek Prowl beginning to boot up, but knowing his mate the way he did he knew he had time to check for the level of damage he'd inflicted. Shattered headlights, slashed armor and dents were all easily visible, but nothing seemed to be sparking or oozing out.

A snarling roar from Prowl preceded Jazz leaping back just fast enough to miss getting his throat slashed open. Then he was scrambling away, the furious Praxian on his heels, online and moving faster than Jazz would have ever believed possible.

Prowl stopped his chase at exactly twenty paces, the distance that Jazz had lingered at out in the grasslands. Jazz went five more than that before turning around and crouching down, tilting his helm to the side to show Prowl his neck. He got growled and glared at, but Prowl's doorwings spoke of already calming down.

Right. Note to self: no trying to sneak up on Prowl.

Prowl turned and stalked back to Mirage, who was blinking blearily at them both. As Jazz and Mirage watched, Prowl settled on his aft next to Mirage and pulled out a soft washcloth to begin cleaning the dust and road-grime off the battered and carefully-bound Creatrix. Sometime during their recharge, he'd booted enough to collar Mirage and bind him to the mountain. 

The spy held absolutely still for nearly three kliks as Prowl wiped the grime from his helm before he x-vented and relaxed, tilting his face and softly glowing optics up towards the Attar.

Jazz could hear a water source of some kind not too far from where they were and he pulled out the largest energon cube he had and split it among several smaller ones. Those were placed at twenty paces and then he left with the empty one. 

When he returned, the smaller cubes were gone and he placed the collected water where they had been, then retreated back five paces again. Even though Prowl didn't look at him as he'd approached, Jazz knew his mate was well aware he was there. It was a moment before Prowl stopped stroking Mirage's plating with the cloth and retrieved the water.

"Thank you," Prowl's voice was low as he spoke to the mate that was a threat but not a threat.

"We're gonna take care of him," Jazz said. "Show him we'll do right by his creation." 

"Not going to," Mirage said with a low, indulgent moan as the damp cloth moved down his neck.

"We will," Prowl accepted his mate into the pact, at least as much as his heat-addled coding would allow. "We'll prove we're worthy, and you'll agree."

Mirage just shook his helm. If he made any effort to answer, it was lost to the quiet gasps of pleasure as Prowl's hands moved and worked over his frame. Jazz's engines kicked into a low purr when Prowl dipped the cloth and brought it up, dripping, to Mirage's pelvis, and the drops that hit the plating sizzled and steamed.

"You need it even more than I do," Prowl rumbled deep in his chest as he gently stroked the intimate plating without any effort to hide that he was out to arouse while he cleaned. "Our creation will be amazing."

"Prowl..." Mirage's hips pressed up and his neck went back. He groaned and the click of his cover unlatching had both Attars focusing sharply. The cover slid halfway back, then stopped, and closed again. Half to Mirage's surprise, Prowl made no attempt to force another interface, even though he wanted to badly.

Strong white hands cleaned the cloth again and began to stroke along the inside of a slender leg. "I'll indulge you in anything," Prowl promised with a line of kisses to Mirage's throat, his frame protectively covering Mirage's.

Mirage panted and his leg moved back with just the lightest of brushes. "Want--I--a-an Attar should be able--to calm, the heat without, the tie."

Prowl's lips moved up to kiss Mirage gently. "I know three ways. Tactile, oral and a band on the knot. Your choice."

"No spike," Mirage said as he sank back, kneels falling open. "Do what you must to get through the heat, but no spike." His valve cover slid open fully. 

Prowl shivered, his fingers reaching for the slick opening with a surge of arousal through him. This wasn't exactly what he wanted, but he'd do anything to convince Mirage to let him finish mating. His fingers stroked the rim and platelets as he knelt over Mirage and continued to nuzzle and kiss him until he was a trembling puddle of need. It wasn't long and really didn't take much skill, but Prowl was going to make Mirage beg for more.

Without warning, three fingers pressed deeply into Mirage's valve and began to mimic the forceful thrusts he'd given out on the grasslands. Mirage moaned deeply, throwing his helm back. His fingers dug into the ground and clenched into fists around clumps of rock and dirt. Jazz's hands did the same as he had to fight to stay where he was. 

For Mirage, it was just a relief to have an Attar's hands anywhere on him. It wasn't what he wanted, either, but he couldn't give into that now. Any further and he knew he'd be begging for Prowl's knot. For Prowl, it felt like foreplay as he focused on kissing, thrusting his fingers and the far more difficult task of ignoring his pressurized spike with his Creatrix's valve right there, cycling needily around his fingers.

"So lovely," Prowl whispered in Mirage's audial as he began to rock their frames in time with the thrusts. It was working him up, but he wanted it, needed it, just as badly as the mech under him.

"Nnh, _yes,_ " Mirage gasped, and it was impossible to tell if it was encouragement of Prowl's actions or agreement with the words. "More, _please._ "

Either way, Prowl answered with a fourth finger as his spike rubbed against Mirage's hip and his back arched slightly. Already panting, intoxicated by the heat-scent, Prowl wouldn't last much longer despite the limited stimulation. Just the situation was enough to drive him so close to the edge he lost track of what he was doing.

"Overload, babe," Jazz purred suddenly, making Mirage's helm jerk around to fix glazed-over optics on the other Attar. Jazz's spike was out, but he still came no closer than Prowl's enforced boundaries. "Spill on him and make him _want_ it. I know he wants ya inside." He looked right at Mirage. "I've had his knot, too. I know how it stretches. I know he'd fill ya ta burstin'." 

Mirage could only groan as he rocked against Prowl's hand. 

"C'mon, Prowler, sugar," Jazz kept purring. "Show him how much ya got. Let him imagine it _inside_ , scratchin' that itch so good. "

Mirage's bound hands started to creep down and he pressed his palm on top of Prowl's spike, then wrapped his fingers around it, giving the Praxian something to push into. Only one thrust later Prowl groaned deeply and pulsed the first thick burst of crackling transfluid across Mirage's hand, abdominals and hip. It sent arcs of electricity deep into Mirage's valve in every spot that the fingers touched.

The Creatrix arched up with a sharp keen, overloading around Prowl's fingers. The Attar could feel the valve squeezing and pulling back, trying to draw in transfluid that wasn't there. Mirage's frame shuddered beneath him, and his overloaded fizzled out quickly and with a frustrated hiss. The back of his valve was burning, lines that were trying to pull the nanites up felt maddeningly empty. 

Mirage slumped with a long groan, fingers pressed hard against Prowl's knot. He looked down and touched it, x-venting as lust flooded his lines. 

"Maybe this is the _best_ time for a creation," Jazz said as his mate recovered. "There's no reason ta suffer like this, 'Raj."

"Your coding's been inactive for so long. It must know something we don't to activate now," Prowl panted, pressing against Mirage's hand and rocking again. "Give me reason to challenge Prime, Mirage," he actually begged. "Let me end the war."

"C-can't," Mirage panted. 

"Know y' scared, 'Raj," Jazz crooned. "But we can do it. We _can._ " 

"Jazz..." It came out as a whine. 

"I'll be there for ya. Just like always," Jazz said, and crept forward a pace.

"I'll rebuild Cybertron for you," Prowl moaned against Mirage's neck. "If that's your price, you know I can."

"Not noble," Mirage whispered. "You're not noble." 

"No one is, lovely," Jazz said in a low, soothing voice. "It's no reason ta stop livin'." He took another step forward, attention sharp on Prowl. He wasn't at the twenty pace line yet and Prowl didn't seem to care.

"We're Autobots, Mirage. You had to renounce your status to join, just as I did," Prowl reminded him of the painful truth, though his voice was almost unnaturally gentle. So was his touch, and the thrust of his fingers questioning rather than forceful.

Glazed, flickering optics struggled to find a focus on Prowl's face. "You just want me because of the heat," he managed, voice not entirely steady. "That's all you see right now." 

"No," Jazz said. " _No._ "

"If that were true, I would not have backed off," Prowl grunted as he pushed against Mirage's hand and turned to kiss Mirage's audial. "I would have forced you. I would have forced any of the others. I want _your_ consent."

"Why?" Mirage breathed.

Prowl groaned, focused on his spike as his charge built to distracting levels once more. Fingers curled around it again and within a handful of rocking thrusts Prowl had spilled on Mirage's plating.

"Care about you more," Prowl panted, trembling as he had to focus and tried to still himself. "You're lovely, poised, intelligent, _skilled_ , competent. I never had to second-guess what you would do. I could always trust you to do what needed to be done. Jazz likes you, a lot."

Mirage nodded, fingers slippery with fluid that he wanted _inside_ him, desperately. "If ... if I ask you to release me, then, and let me walk away right now, what would you do?"

"You know I can't," Prowl murmured the truth they all knew. "I'd keep trying to change your processors."

Mirage nodded. "I know," he said, then seemed to steel himself with several cycled vents. "I need space to think," he said. "I need--I need you to stop touching me. That's all. Just for now. Can't think straight." 

Jazz immediately took three steps back to his former position as Prowl rose to move. The Praxian didn't go far, barely a full pace away, but it was enough that they'd have to seek it to teek the other because of how tight both naturally held their fields.

"Mirage, there is a noble still functioning, and he's on Earth," Prowl spoke quietly, the quiver of his doorwings marking just how difficult it was for him to say it. "But I would ask ... is it sparkline or status that you need?"

"Both--status," Mirage said hoarsely as he rolled to his side and curled, pressing the heel of his hand against his valve, trying to ease some of the ache on his own.

"Then remember that I am Second in Command of the Autobot army. I answer only to the Prime. My status is comparable to a royal," Prowl pointed out something he never thought about but had long known. At a high enough rank or with enough wealth, any citizen could be socially comparable to a noble. It had simply been very rare outside of a handful of positions in each city and the top military ranks.

"Oh," Mirage said, and groaned. "Of course, yes, of course. I ... Prowl, it isn't, it just ... what I want from nobility doesn't exist anymore." Without the Attar's touch, he was starting to squirm again, open-mouthed and panting.

"I know," Prowl's voice was gentle, trying to soothe without lying. "My people, my culture, everything I ever valued is gone as well. Once the war is over, we can rebuild. I know how to win the war and how to revive Cybertron. I only require reason strong enough to challenge the Prime and force him to allow it. You can be that reason. You can be the reason Cybertron glows again."

"I'm not kindling," Mirage said sharply.

"Yet," Prowl insisted, and all three knew it was the reproductive coding talking. Really, it was something of a miracle that he was as coherent and in control as he was. "Eventually, you will be willing."

"My Attar flew and fought for my spark," Mirage said with a sharp, needy whine from his engines. "I just want _relief_ , I can't have another creation."

"You don't _want_ another creation," Prowl countered quietly. "Your current state proves you _can_ have one." Ice blue optics were briefly shuttered. "The only relief for any of us is in mating. I'll do what I can for you short of that."

Mirage shuddered. "That's all I want."

Prowl nodded, steadied himself, and focused. "I need to touch you to bring any relief to your frame."

"Y' should go down on him," Jazz said, voice hoarse with longing. 

" _Please,_ " Mirage begged immediately.

Prowl rumbled and slid forward to lift Mirage's legs to his shoulders and ran his glossa around the dripping opening and the slick platelets around it, his full focus on giving Mirage what he wanted.

The Creatrix gave a low, decadent moan as he rocked up into the relief of an Attar's touch. It still wasn't what they both wanted, but it was what he could make himself accept. 

And by _Primus_ did it feel good.

A deeper moan was torn from him as Prowl's glossa swirled around the rim, dipping inside to tease at primed nodes before backing out to lavish attention on cleaning lubricant from the platelets.

"Ah, frag, whatever y' doin', don't stop," Jazz said as he started to purr. "Ya should see the look on his face, lover."

Prowl gave a hungry rumble as his gaze angled up to take in the bliss he was causing, but he didn't try to answer Jazz. Not with the moaning pleasure pouring off Mirage at his efforts. Mirage's hands clenched around nothing as he rolled his hips into the pleasure. Before he could whine, Prowl's glossa plunged deep inside him to lap forcefully at the walls.

Mirage screamed and arched as an overload rocked through him, burning away the arousal as it went. When it faded, he groaned and pushed Prowl's helm away from over-sensitized plating. The Attar took the shove more gracefully than most, especially given the crackle of arousal under his plating. As difficult as it was, Prowl still managed to shift back a pace, but his gaze was ravaging Mirage from where he sat.

With a low growl of frustration Prowl took himself in hand and jerked on his spike roughly, seeking release as quickly as he could with little care for the pleasure of it.

Mirage watched, then rolled to his side, back to Prowl, and curled up before dropping into a light recharge. 

Jazz straightened, then shifted slowly forward. He had Prowl's attention immediately, but the stronger Attar only watched until Jazz reached eighteen paces away. Then doorwings lifted and a low growl came from his engine. A clear warning, yes, but not yet a threat of violence.

Jazz crouched down, then went to hands and knees and painstakingly made his way forward to ten paces away, stopping every time Prowl's engines shifted into a lower gear until they leveled out again. He held at ten paces, putting forehelm to the ground and lifting his aft up.

The pitch of Prowl's whine shifted, revving hard and hungry when he realized what was on offer. He'd stood and moved three paces before catching himself and looked back at Mirage, lightly in recharge. The Creatrix didn't stir, and Prowl wavered until desire and trust in Jazz won out. He was on his mate a sparkbeat later, pushing him so that Prowl was closer to Mirage, but could still watch him.

With no other hesitation Prowl thrust into Jazz with a relieved groan and leaned forward, covering him as he thrust into the slick tightness with all the abandon of an Attar with his Creatrix.

Jazz jerked, clawing at the ground with one hand, biting down on the back of the other to keep his groans muffled. It didn't feel good. It wasn't what he wanted, and he was fighting the urge to roll and turn against Prowl and tear into him--

\--but he'd lost, he'd submitted, and now he needed to help his mate convince the Creatrix to kindle. He held onto that as Prowl drove into him, overload after overload. Whispered words of adoration and affection were expected, that Prowl knew who he was with was less so. The thanks that was spoken just before Prowl all but collapsed on top of him did come as a surprise.

Jazz panted, slumped forward, and tried to move out from under his mate so he could get back to the 20 pace border. Prowl would need recharge, and he would want to do it draped over Mirage. 

Instead, he realized that he was stuck. 

"Quit tyin' me," he said with a chuckle as he relaxed, resigned to wait. 

"Sorry," Prowl mumbled, only slightly coherent. "I'm hot for you."

"Mmm. Almost makes me wish I was a Creatrix," Jazz said, reaching back to pet whatever part of Prowl he could reach. " _Almost._ "

He was nuzzled and had a sensor horn lavished by a glossa in return. "Maybe, if we court him right, next time he won't fuss and we can share him."

Jazz groaned and shuddered from the combination of sensation and the image. "I like him," he said. "I'd like that. Gotta get him to see that we'll make it safe for his creation." 

"Then we have a goal," Prowl murmured with another nuzzle as his knot began to shrink. "Once the heat's over, we court him for real, to join _us?_ "

"Gotta think about it when he isn't in heat," Jazz said. "Know I'm not exactly workin' ta full capacity right now. But ... yeah, think I'd like that." He glanced over his shoulder. "Try not ta lay inta me," he said, as he squirmed a bit and then pulled free. 

It left him between Prowl and Mirage and he stayed still and low. He felt Prowl holding himself steady until they were completely apart. Then the Praxian rushed to Mirage and curled over and around him, back and spread doorwings towards Jazz, arms wrapped around Mirage. Jazz shuffled back to 20 paces, settling in to guard his mate and his agent.


	5. Taking The Shot

"I've never seen an Attar tie another Attar," Ratchet whispered, crouched down as he watched Prowl slumping over Jazz. 

"Prowl must be fully engrossed," Prime mused. They were on the edge of a steep cliff, hidden by the surrounding forest as they looked down at the three mecha in the bottom.

"You _sure_ Jazz is an Attar? No Attar would allow that," Bluestreak couldn't hide his utter disgust at what he was witnessing. "It's _wrong_. Completely _wrong_."

"Hush," Ratchet snapped at him, and reached over to tweak one of the chevron points. "There's no telling you wouldn't do the same damn thing for someone you loved. And yes, he's an Attar. Unless you think he almost died fighting for Mirage for the sheer, unbridled _fun_ of it all."

"Oww," Bluestreak hissed at Ratchet as his doorwings jacked up. "It's _unnatural_. Bonded pairs share." He suddenly stopped dead, going silent in a way that wasn't at all normal for him. Doorwings lowered in sadness and grief and suddenly he looked away from the scene, even away from Mirage.

Ratchet watched the young Attar sadly. "No, they're not bonded," he said, confirming what Bluestreak had just realized, to his dismay.

"They made that choice for themselves," Prime rumbled softly. "Because of the dangers of the war. It doesn't mean anything, Bluestreak."

"They ... aren't bonded?" Bluestreak stumbled over the idea. "But they act like it, talk like it ... _everybody_ thinks they are." He looked up at Prime. "That," he waved at the pair that were finally separating and hurriedly making distance between each other, "Nobody can know that. Not that they aren't bonded and definitely not that they tied. Jazz would lose _everything_. Prowl would be hurt too."

"Stigma is a vicious enemy," Prime murmured, nodding. 

"So can you make the shot?" Ratchet asked.

"Jazz, yeah, I could make that," Bluestreak said uneasily as he fingered his sniper rifle. "But not Prowl. He's too close to Mirage. Not much point in dropping Jazz for a joor if I can't take out Prowl too."

"Well we want you to make all three," Prime said, frowning at the young sniper.

"What? No!" Bluestreak quivered. "I won't shoot Mirage. I _can't_. It ... I just can't. I can barely accept knocking out my competitors at range."

"Bluestreak," Ratchet said firmly. "That's why you're here. To take all three of them out so they can be returned safely to base. If you only take out Jazz, Prowl will retreat with Mirage. Take out Prowl, then Jazz, and then Mirage."

"I can't shoot Prowl if he's that close to Mirage," Bluestreak trembled harder, torn between truly wanting to do what was right, to obey his Prime, the reproductive coding and how difficult it was to think where he could see the Creatrix he desired so much. "I can't risk hurting Mirage."

"It won't hurt him!" Ratchet snapped, exasperated. "For pit's sake, just--" 

Prime's hand on Ratchet shoulder quieted him and Optimus leveled his steady gaze on the young Attar. "Are you certain of your assessment?"

Gray doorwings shook harder as Bluestreak's distress mounted, but he nodded. "I can't. I'm sorry, Prime. I just can't aim that close to Mirage."

"We knew it was going to be a long shot," Prime said, squeezing Bluestreak's shoulder. "They appear to be unharmed, Mirage is in no excess distress, and Prowl has resisted forcing himself on him." He sighed, gaze going back into the ravine. "It is unfair to ask you to harm a Creatrix, no matter how small that harm. Thank you for your assessment, Bluestreak." 

Ratchet grumbled to himself but let it drop. Even he accepted that he could never fully comprehend what it was to be an Attar around an unclaimed Creatrix in heat.

* * *

When Mirage came online again, it was to the protective weight of Prowl on top of him, and the relentless, burning arousal that nothing had been able to sate for longer than a few kliks. He sighed and tucked his face against Prowl's neck, reflecting once again how grateful he was that if he had to get caught, it was by these two. 

He would have preferred Jazz, but Prowl was his commander's mate, and Mirage had come to know Prowl over the vorns, even just through listening to Jazz talk. 

He thought back to what Jazz had said, about Prowl tying him. He'd been too fogged with lust to really decipher it before, but thinking about it now... 

_Heat_ surged between his legs and he felt lubricant leak out from his valve. It was ... wrong, but Primus if he didn't find the idea hot. Before he knew it, he'd wrapped his legs around Prowl's thigh and was grinding against him, barely in control of himself. He never felt Prowl boot up, only aware of it because of the spike that quickly pressurized against his abdominal plating and the way Prowl began to grind back.

Mirage hissed, then got his bound hands under Prowl's chest and shoved with all his strength, trying to get the Praxian off. " _No,_ " he gasped. He couldn't completely hide his surprise when Prowl moved. The unhappy growl of the Praxian's engine didn't even reduce the fact that the Attar had backed off enough they no longer touched, even if he went no further.

Mirage's vents stalled out for a moment, then he started panting as he tried to cool down. He curled forward, looking up at Prowl, bracing for the Praxian to lunge onto him again, but it didn't happen. "Thank you," he finally said.

"I promised not to force you," Prowl said the only thing he could think of, the only thing that was keeping him at any distance. He'd never understand how he managed to resist the burning need, but he was managing.

Mirage x-vented and nodded, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He was aware of Jazz off to the side, watching attentively. "Not surprised that Jazz likes you so much. Get it now."

"He's all that and so much more," Jazz trilled to his subordinate. "I've never regretted falling for him."

"It's mutual," Prowl murmured, eagerly taking the opening to direct his thoughts to his mate.

Jazz smiled at his mate, then looked at Mirage. "You wouldn't regret it either. We'd be so good to you."

Mirage huffed. "You're heat crazed. Both of you."

"Yes, we all are," Prowl accepted the truth.

"Maybe, but it doesn't make it any less true," Jazz purred. "We'd be as good to you as we are to each other."

"We would," Prowl added his promise. He reached out to touch Mirage's face, only to pull back just before he made contact. "We would protect you."

"We could do it so much better than I can now," Jazz added. "If you were _ours_ , mated, triad, we'd be justified in so much more direct action. Creation or no creation."

Mirage managed to focus on his commander after a few moments of struggling with his unwilling optics. Jazz was saying it, and Jazz didn't have any hope of interfacing with him during this heat, not unless something extraordinary happened. Mirage knew his commander wasn't bonded with his mate, so Jazz's tolerated presence was something of a miracle already. 

Which meant Jazz really believed what he was saying, and wasn't just saying it in an attempt to mate with him. 

He looked back to Prowl, who was waiting tensely for his answer, _any_ answer. "Just... just interfacing," he said. "No sparks."

"Agreed," Prowl shuddered with relief in the intensity of the heat-fueled arousal of hope. He reached forward again, his fingers stopping just short of Mirage's facial plating, waiting for permission to touch. "Only what you want, agree to."

Mirage nodded, then uncurled and laid back, spreading his legs open. The throbbing, aching _need_ was everywhere, but he knew where relief would be found. If he could hold back after this, that was fine. If he couldn't ... he trusted them to make it alright. 

Mostly, he wanted the ache to go away. "I want you to tie me," he said.

Even Jazz could teek the surge of _yes-need-arousal-want_ that roared through Prowl at that. The Praxian wasted no time in getting between Mirage's knees and leaning over him. Yet even as desperate as he was, he still kissed Mirage softly as he pressed his spike into that welcoming inferno of raw bliss. Mirage didn't respond at first, as they both shuddered from the joining and the Creatrix whined, and then he kissed back, lips parting in invitation. His legs pulled up and back to hook around Prowl's hips, a motion that opened him completely up to the Attar.

All Prowl could do was moan into the kiss as it deepened and he surrendered most conscious thought to the cycle of rising pleasure in them both at the powerful thrusts he drove into his finally willing Creatrix.

Even Jazz was drawn forward, engines whining with the effort it took not to rush the pair. 

Mirage barely noticed. For him, the world was narrowed down to his focus on Prowl and the hardness that was finally pounding away the persistent and maddening itch. It drew groans of bliss from him between the waves of charged pleasure. He was only distantly aware of Prowl's final roar before the Attar collapsed, but he was fully aware of the incredibly settling sensation of the thick knot at the base of that wonderful spike as it swelled enough to tie them together. As he gradually came back to his senses, he realized he was panting heavily, mouth still pressed against Prowl's, legs shaking. He also felt better than he had since the heat had started, and mumbled something to that effect. Prowl nuzzled him, offering praise and complements that made Mirage tingle. He didn't hear how perfect and beautiful and strong he was nearly enough.

Beyond Mirage's awareness, Jazz's vents stalled as he saw his mate very deliberately expose his valve, and that it was glistening and ready. He still managed to hold still until doorwings gave a wave that left no doubt he was being invited.

It was one thing to be beaten down by another Attar and tied in a mistaken frenzy. It was another to offer, willingly. And something quite unlike either of those two things to invite like Prowl was, tied to his Creatrix. 

Jazz managed to get closer to them without scrambling, visor bright. He heard Mirage's gasp right before he moved behind Prowl and buried himself in his mate with a short, sharp cry. 

" _Frag,_ " Mirage whispered, and even Jazz could feel his temperature increase. 

Prowl moaned, shuddering as he was taken and the pleasure that it caused. It wasn't anything like the pleasure gained from tying with a Creatrix in heat, or even what he and Jazz often shared, but it felt so good to be with his mate again and not have it as lust-clouded as it had been lately.

Every thrust Jazz made rocked the tied pair together, stimulating spike and valve in ways that couldn't happen with just two. Mirage's bright yellow optics were fixed on him, the noble's gaze lustful and intense. Jazz held onto Prowl's doorwings, then leaned in and bit down on his neck as he pushed once, twice, and then overloaded into his mate.

When he came out of it, all three of them were tied together and Prowl was radiating a contentment that just wasn't normal for an Attar who'd been tied, or for one with a second Attar so close to him with a Creatrix in heat. It wasn't normal, but oh it felt good to all three of them.

"We want you," Prowl murmured to Mirage. "Both of us. A real triad."

"You might feel otherwise when the heat is over," Mirage murmured. "You left the Ark for a reason." 

"We may feel differently, but we don't believe so," Prowl said.

"Left 'cause we knew we had ta," Jazz mumbled. "You didn't want anyone. I would have gotten in and we all know it."

Mirage sighed and nodded. "You, or the twins," he said. "Wasn't ready for any of this to happen." 

"No one was," Prowl soothed him, his touch gentle. "We'll get through this and cope with the fallout when it's over."

Mirage nodded again, then pulled Prowl into a kiss as he rolled his hips, silently asking for more. He was indulged without hesitation, the three of them rocking with the limited movements the tie allowed.


	6. The Final Stage

Three orns, over thirty nine local days, and Mirage spent more time either tied to or trying to be tied to Prowl than not. Sometimes Jazz was invited to mount his mate when it was over, sometimes not, but either way Jazz cleared some distance between them once he could. Prowl's swipes weren't deadly and he didn't chase anymore, but he still wasn't ready to let Jazz near Mirage if there was any option of them mating.

It was becoming harder to resist the praise, the consideration, the simple truth that he wouldn't have entered a heat cycle if there weren't enough resources or too much stress. Earth was ugly, dirty and crawling with _things_ , but it was also resource rich and the war had died down to a low simmer. That he was the first to notice meant he was the best Creatrix available, the first whose systems had primed themselves.

It was wrong, but in the moments of clarity when Prowl was tied to him, Mirage could understand why his systems chose now and why it was a good idea to create, so long as his Attars were strong enough.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around Prowl as they began to online together, nuzzling the other mech. Jazz had retreated again, he noticed, and it was just them tucked under the small shelter of stone. Jazz was recharging against the far wall of the ravine, only six paces away now. He felt Prowl nuzzle him as the Praxian booted up far enough, then white hands stroked him with a questioning field full of desire. Mirage hummed and hooked his leg up around Prowl's waist in offer and time was lost to the rub and heat of pleasure until they sank into exhaustion once more, still tied together.

This was different though. Mirage could feel it. His holding tanks were full, hard with collected minerals and coding nanites. Soon this wouldn't be enough and his spark would demand attention. Prowl's spark would want to answer. Just like with Storm Front, the Attar would be able to sense the right moment. Mirage wondered idly what would happen when he refused, and if he would even be able to. 

"Heya, 'Raj," came Jazz's murmur, and Mirage booted up his optics and tilted his helm back to see his commander settling near his helm. He sat down cross legged and rested his hands on his thighs, leaning forward to look down at him. "Ya need anything?" 

"No, nothing," Mirage said, as Prowl purred above him, sated and completely at ease with the other Attar's presence. They may not be spark bonded, but they were unquestionably just as close and dedicated in the long run.

"You are beautiful in pleasure. You'll be beautiful carrying our sparkling," Jazz murmured, stroking Mirage's helm with one hand while the other stroked Prowl's chevron. "I know now badly you want the war to end, to rebuild Cybertron. You have the power to make that happen now."

"It's more complicated than that and you know it," Mirage said. "A sparkling is just as likely to die as anything. More so." 

Jazz hummed, and then his hands moved under Mirage's helm and lifted it so that he could come forward, and Mirage found his head settled into his commander's lap. Black fingers traced his helm vents, then his mouth. "We would keep any creation of yours safe above all else. You must be full, or nearly there, sweet spark." 

"Almost," Mirage whispered, and his valve warmed again as the knot in it shrunk enough to slide out.

"A sparkling, _my_ sparkling, would give me the strength to force the war to end," Prowl kissed Mirage's jawline as he rocked his hips, rousing them both for one of the last ties the heat would demand of them. "I can end the war. I just need the strength to challenge Prime."

Mirage groaned as Prowl pushed forward, yellow optics flickering pleasantly. The _need_ of the early stages of the heat had finally left, leaving him with a heavy, radiating warmth. He didn't want it to end. 

Jazz's hands settled on either side of his helm as Prowl rocked. "You look so good when he's stretching you," he purred to the spy. "You know how hot you make him? He's been hard for orns, all for you. He's an amazing lover, isn't he."

"Yes," Mirage couldn't stop the reply that was both to what Prowl was doing and to Jazz's question. "He's amazing. The endurance..."

"Praxian," Prowl nuzzled as he panted. "Meant to keep two mates happy."

"You better believe he's capable of it, too," Jazz said with a grin, thumbs running up and down the inside edge of Mirage's helm, tracing the border around his face. He curled over, his field thick with arousal, engines purring. Mirage could feel the heat coming off of Jazz's locked panels. "Come on, beautiful," Jazz kept murmuring, "Relax, show me how good it feels when he takes you."

Mirage could only shiver and obey that voice he'd long been trained to obey without hesitation. His lips fell open and his optics were shuttered as he rolled into each thrust, gasp and moan at the perfection of having such a strong Attar over him, filling him, wanting him. Jazz's whispers never stopped, growing dirtier and more erotic with each passing moment, until Mirage could barely stand the heat coming from both of them.

When Prowl roared his overload, heat flooded Mirage's frame. Jazz's engines shifted into a deep purr and he leaned in to murmur against Mirage's audial as the spy seized in overload.

"You must be full, he's spilled so much inside you," his commander's voice wound around him like a song. "Enough to make a strong creation, and he'll give you more than every drop you need."

"Wrong timing..." Mirage gasped out.

"Perfect timing," Prowl countered, his chest plates unlocked but closed. "We can win. You'd be the reason the war ends. So perfect a third for us."

"Please, Mirage," Jazz whispered, "Prowl can fill you with life, we can all protect it. Let us do that for you. Don't you want a creation?" 

" _Yes,_ " Mirage moaned, and that was easy, and the truth, and had been the truth for centuries. But he was terrified by the thought of losing another, didn't think he could survive that grief a second time. The first time, he'd had a planet to fight for. Now... 

"The right time is _now_ ," Jazz said. "I pledge my spark to the safety of you and your creation."

"We both do," Prowl said. 

Mirage felt the spike knotted inside him give another burst of fluid, only this one wasn't drawn up, and he knew the tank was full. Prowl's engines rumbled over him as he sensed the same, and Mirage remembered the power the Praxian had used in the chase and in defeating Jazz for the right to mate with him. His spark pulsed hotly in his chest, and then his armor unlocked and split down the center of his chest.

Jazz was gone so fast Mirage didn't even sense him moving, only realizing it when he realized his helm was on the rocks he was laying on. Above Mirage, Prowl's armor parted quickly, his ice blue spark just as hot and eager. One look and Mirage knew this mech would produced a very strong creation. The energy glowing in the other's core was enough to power a large convoy class.

His chamber spiraled open, greedy for what was being offered. Prowl moved forward to cover him completely, pushing Mirage's legs open and back until Prowl's helm could rest against his. Tied together, Mirage's frame bowed up as their chests came flush. 

Tendrils of spark light came together, wrapping around each other, and Mirage pulled Prowl's spark into himself.

* * *

Jazz waited on the far side of the ravine, rifle drawn and armed throughout the entire merge. He kept a steady scan of the above ridge, and kept coming back to a single spot on his infrared. It wasn't organic, and it wasn't the same temperature as the surrounding rock. 

It was also too cool to suggest an Attar seeking out a Creatrix in heat, so Jazz thought it was likely an Autobot Summa assigned to watch over them. It was impossible to tell who, though, or even the size, so he never quite lost track of it. 

When the merge ended and both Prowl and Mirage had fallen into recharge, Jazz crept forward, one pace at a time. The last thing he wanted was to have Prowl turn on him if he was startled into a rapid boot without having a chance to assess his surroundings. With his carrier exposed like this, the Praxian would be on a hairpin trigger and even more dangerous than before, but Jazz wanted to be close, needed to be close to protect his mate, his agent, and the newspark that could end the war. He could feel it, teek it, every sense he had telling him as he came close that the heat was over.

The newspark had taken and was strong enough for Mirage's coding to drop into nesting mode. Or at least it would when he booted up again. Prowl would be free of the heat, and then ... then the three of them had to work out just what they were going to be. Jazz knew what he wanted. He wanted them both. He was fairly sure Prowl would resist Mirage leaving them before the new mecha was at least a mechling, if not an adult. Mirage he was less sure of, but he was sure that his agent wouldn't turn down the kind of support they were offering until their creation was grown.

As he settled down near his agent's helm, he felt a surge of guilt, and quickly looked away, back up to the surrounding ridges. If they hadn't returned to the Ark when the Decepticons attacked...

Well, in all likelihood, one of the other Attar who'd chased after him would have caught him eventually. But Mirage stood a better chance of getting away from those four than he did either Jazz or Prowl, and he might have escaped the heat without kindling. 

Mirage was terrified of what having another creation meant, and they'd worked together to give him one. Jazz had seduced him into acceptance. It was a betrayal of the highest order in their very morally loose world. Sure, he could blame it on the heat and it wouldn't be that much of a stretch, but the bottom line didn't change. He'd betrayed his agent.

Those thoughts, and the bogie on the ridge, kept swirling in his processors until he felt Prowl begin a slow, lazy boot sequence.

"Prowler," he murmured, and gently pressed his field out to warm against his mate's. Partly to help Prowl safely adjust to his surroundings, while feeling safe during his boot, and mostly because he needed to feel like they could talk to each other again without the insanity of the heat craze. He couldn't completely contain the relief when he felt Prowl's field press back to mingle and mesh, welcoming and warm like it was meant to be. It smoothed out and stilled as processors booted, but never took on the unstable, hyper-focused edge that it had held since the hunt for Mirage had begun.

"Jazz," Prowl murmured, not completely self-aware but close to it. "It's over."

"Yeah," Jazz said, and reached out to brush his fingers over Prowl's forehelm. "How much do ya remember?" 

"Most of it, I believe," Prowl turned into the touch. "The chase, almost killing you and taking Mirage," he glanced down at the mech under him. "Convincing him to say yes. How much I didn't want to be so nice about it." He sighed. "It really doesn't seem natural."

Jazz snorted. "'S about as natural as it gets, lover. Whaddya think Cybertron was like before it was civilized? Wild Creatrixes didn't have scent-locked facilities, that's for sure." 

Prowl was quiet for a moment. "I mean that being so patient didn't feel natural," he finally said, and Jazz could barely hear him. "That--that waiting for his permission wasn't..." 

"...Oh," Jazz said, voice dropping to match his mate's in volume. "Yeah. It's ... good that ya did."

Prowl shifted slightly and brushed his fingers along Mirage's face. "I must like him more than I believed." He sighed. "Now comes the hard part. Courting him when we're all ourselves."

"You still want to?" Jazz asked, trying to hide how anxious the question made him. "I mean, _really_ want to?"

"I ... believe so," Prowl focused on his mate. "But only for a triad. Only if you want him too."

Jazz x-vented with relief, then turned to press a hard, fast kiss. " _Yes,_ " he said.

Prowl relaxed as his mate did, relief flooding his field. "Then we have a great deal of planning to do."

"I'm right here you know," Mirage said dryly.

Jazz actually jumped, then turned a glare on his agent. "Your boot-up sequence is freakish," he said.

"I am _Mirage_ ," he repeated the long-used reply to his commander's displeasure at being caught off guard by the utterly silent process.

"Indeed you are," Prowl focused on him, then nuzzled him. "You heard our intent?"

"I did," the noble said, and as he leveled his gaze on them, he embodied his former function. "Stop touching me. Right now."

Prowl gave a sigh but complied as he drew up and away, only to settle barely a pace away. He was about as far away as Jazz was, and offered a washcloth to Mirage.

Mirage tilted his helm back, chin lifting in the air as he accepted and sat up straight, and set about cleaning himself off with an air of dignity that in no way suited a mech sitting in the dirt. 

For all that Mirage appeared to care, he might as well have been in Crystal City's finest washrack, being tended to by an army of servants as he was hand-fed decadent candies. 

Jazz and Prowl waited in silence as he worked, only moving when he held his hand out for a new cloth, until they were both out. Barely a quarter of the noble's frame had been seen to, and even that wasn't even what Hound would call _clean._

Mirage heaved a sigh as he looked down over himself, turned the rag about a few times looking for any more clean patches, then tossed it into the pile with the others. "Can't be helped, I suppose," he said, then settled back, reclining on one elbow. His other arm rested on his knee as he regarded them. "I expect you two to take responsibility for this newspark, as was promised."

Prowl's shock brightened his optics dangerously as it flared, thick and distressed in his field.

"Of course we are. It's _our_ creation too," Jazz spoke for his mate as Prowl tried to come to grips with the idea that he _wouldn't_ take responsibility for a creation of his spark and frame.

"Good," Mirage said, then looked specifically at Prowl. "I expect that in _writing._ " 

A datapad was taken out of Prowl's subspace and offered to the noble less than a klik later, and Mirage had to work to conceal his surprise that it wasn't just a simple statement in writing, but a full legal contract with three options listed for him to select from. He scanned them--three variations of custody and support--and nodded his satisfaction before slipping the datapad into his subspace. "This is acceptable," he said. "I will think on it later when I am better fueled, and I would hear your input, as well." 

"'Raj, are y' all right?" Jazz asked quietly. 

Mirage quickly lifted his chin back up. "Yes."

Jazz studied him, then nodded and stood to touch Prowl's doorwing to draw the Praxian away, giving Mirage some space. They settled across the ravine, and Jazz found himself with a very snuggly mate as Prowl soothed himself that his mate was truly okay. And since Mirage was online and fully aware of himself and his surroundings, Jazz was finally able to relax and curl into the contact. He didn't stop his regular scans of their surroundings, and he always kept the Summa's heat signature where he could see it, but it was easy to relax against his love and reassure him. 

Prowl's hands eventually ended up tracing the field repairs that Ratchet had performed, checking and double checking the work, and Jazz held still for him before he started his own assessment. Prowl still hadn't been seen to, but none of his injuries had been or were becoming critical yet, so Jazz didn't press the issue. Being here for Mirage, if and when the spy needed them, was the most important thing. 

::Call Ratchet, or does he need time?:: Prowl asked with a comm so low powered it didn't extend an arm's length from him.

::Time,:: Jazz said, looping his arms around his mate and bringing their forehelms together. ::Haven't really seen this since he first started training with me. He's freaked out but he'll want ta get it under control himself.::

::Can we do anything for him other than pretend he's not distressed?:: Prowl turned his mate's helm for a kiss that was less hungry than it looked. "Missed thinking right about you."

::He was raised in a brutal place,:: Jazz said as he leaned into the touch. ::Emotion was weakness, never let y' guard down. Not so different from us, lover. Only difference was the stakes. He faced public humiliation and ostracization, 'stead 'a dyin'. Soon as he isn't at risk of breakin' down he'll want us back.::

::We'll be here when he's ready,:: Prowl said firmly as he snuggled a bit closer and allowed himself the luxury of simply being with his mate with no demands on them.

It took most of a joor, but finally, Mirage did shift and look over at them. Jazz lifted his head from Prowl's chest and looked back, and the noble gave a small nod. Jazz gave his mate a small nudge and they moved to Mirage's side of the ravine.

"There is a water source not far from here where we can clean up better," Prowl suggested.

Mirage gave him a small smile. "Thank you. I have survived longer in much worse condition than this, though, and I'd rather wait for a real washrack." He held his hands out to both of them. 

They accepted and sat down in front of him, and Mirage x-vented, bowing his helm a little. "We kindled successfully," he said. "I can feel the newspark. I ... wanted to apologize, for coming between you as I did."

"Ya didn't, the war..." Jazz said even as his field accepted the apology. "If we'd bonded when we'd wanted to, we would have worked together fully."

"We are the ones who pursued you even after you rejected us," Prowl added quietly.

"You could hardly help that," Mirage said. "If you hadn't, someone else would have. I was only fortunate that you caught my scent in that battle; there were at least four others pursuing in the beginning, and I doubt any of them would have been so honorable. I..." He glanced down and away. "If I'd had to pick, it would have been Jazz."

"Really?" Jazz looked at him with surprise.

"Yes," Mirage whispered.

"We come together," Prowl said quietly. "No matter who had won, you will have Jazz."

Mirage nodded, then looked to Prowl and reached out, crooking his fingers under the Praxian's chin. He regarded him for a moment, then smiled again and brushed his thumb over Prowl's mouth. "Even if I would have chosen Jazz, I believe you are the most worthy Attar."

"Thank you," Prowl murmured, only just resisting the impulse to lick the thumb. "I will do right by our creation. I have always taken care of my creations."

"I believe that," Mirage said, then lowered his hand back into his lap. "What are your intentions in courting me?"

"To become a triad," Prowl answered first.

"And ... maybe ta bond, when the war ends, if ya want ta be with us," Jazz murmured. "That's when Prowler and I are bondin'."

"At a minimum, to be part of raising our creation," Prowl added. "For it to know us as creators, all three of us."

Mirage's optics gave a startled flick and he looked between them before focusing on Jazz. "Have you truly considered something as serious as that?" 

Jazz huffed a short laugh. "Yeah." 

"I ... wouldn't have thought myself so appealing," Mirage said. "At least, not to you." 

"'Raj..." Jazz lifted a hand and touched the spy's mouth with his fingertips. "Ya got no idea."

"How long?" Mirage whispered, still a bit in shock. "Have you?" his gaze flicked to Prowl.

"I began when I realized that the probability of a creation by one of us with you exceeded 28%," Prowl answered. "Previous times it was like this, they had a mate to go back to, or at least were not someone I knew. I sent credits as my part, and occasionally a behind the scenes reference or intervention, but I never cared to be part of their lives any more than I was with my legal creations." He fell silent for a bit. "I know you. I'll know your creation. I will be part of its life in some context as our population is too small for me to avoid it without stigmatizing it. It forced me to analyze what context would be best, and becoming a triad will be best."

"Ya caught my optic soon as I started training ya," Jazz said with a shrug. "But ... knowin' noble culture, never made a move. Then I met Prowl." He cast his mate an adoring look. "I was never one ta think there's one spark out there for every 'bot, love could be found almost anywhere. Found it in him, never needed anyone else."

Mirage nodded slowly. "You would have pursued me, if you believed you could have?"

"Mighta," Jazz said. "Who knows now. And I was a different mech, even then, so no tellin' how it woulda gone. Just..." His hand slipped down to Mirage's neck, caressing. "Know ya didn't want the heat, and I hate what it made us do, but we're gonna make something good come outta it, I promise."

Mirage allowed his optics to dim at the pleasure of the touch. "You will both _court_ me. That I carry your creation is not grounds to skip that."

"Hope ya don't think a guttersmech and a Praxian Enforcer know the first thing about Towers courting," Jazz said with an easy grin. "Or y' in for a letdown."

"Or courting in general," Prowl added ruefully. "Autobot courting is the only system any of us have in common. Though if you detail any items of importance to you, we will do our best to include it."

Mirage tilted his head in thought as he regarded them, then allowed a small smile to cross his face. "Why don't you show me what your idea of courting is," he said. "My culture is gone, it might be better for me to adapt than force you into a mould of extinct mecha." He focused on Jazz and his optics darkened a little. "You were very patient through the heat." 

Jazz engines revved up at the tone. "Prowler beat me. Had ta be." He leaned in, his hand trailing down to Mirage's middle. "Probably still full." 

"Yes, but it never hurts to make sure," Mirage said.

Prowl's engine gave a hard rev with a bright flare of _arousal-yes_ in his field as he backed off, just a bit, to give Jazz and Mirage a chance to connect without him.

"Ya sure?" Jazz couldn't help the intense arousal that surged through his lines.

Mirage simply turned away from him and shifted to relax on his forearms with his aft up, but Jazz's touch to his shoulder before he could settle there made him pause and look back.

"Wanna see y' face," Jazz said, vents picking up in speed. "Ya got no idea how hard it was ta not challenge for ya that whole time."

Mirage hesitated, then gave Jazz a smile as he rolled to his back and spread his legs. "This time. Then you will owe me a proper spiking when we are clean and well-fueled."

Jazz didn't hesitate to press in and claim a deep kiss, all the pent-up need that hadn't been fulfilled in the heat shuddering through him. "How is this not a proper spiking?" he asked, pushing Mirage's thighs back with his own.

"You aren't against my back, covering me," the noble said with a look of slight confusion.

"That's your favorite?" Jazz asked, stilling. "Or is that proper?"

"Both, I suppose," Mirage reached out to catch his fingertips under Jazz's chin to draw him forward. "Less talk, more action."

"Just don't wanna start off by screwin' up," Jazz told him, then pressed in for another kiss as his spike extended. He reached down between them to slip his fingers over Mirage's valve, feeling, and then took himself in hand and pushed in. He stilled when he was fully inside and groaned, shivering. "If ya go inta heat again," he gasped, "I want ta be with ya."

"If you successfully court me for a triad, we can discuss it," Mirage moaned deeply as he pressed his hips into the contact. Even without the heat burning in his lines, this was the kind of pleasure he adored the most.

Jazz nodded as he rolled his hips, then took the back of Mirage's helm in hand and kissed him deeply, staying locked there, glossae tangling as they moved together, both willing and reveling in the simple physical pleasure of it. Neither completely lost track of Prowl, or that Prowl had his doorwings spread in guard of them.

"Harder," Mirage gasped out as he gripped Jazz's shoulders. "Tie if you can."

Jazz groaned as he drove forward. "Not sure I..." 

And then Prowl was next to him, field thick with his enjoyment of watching them interface, and the Praxian's purr came close to his audial. 

"Remember the heat scent," Prowl murmured. "And how good he looked, and how it felt to hold him while I knotted him instead of you, how _frustrating_ that was." 

Jazz moaned, his thrusts picking up. 

"Next time, it'll be you mounting him to mate instead of me," Prowl kept purring for his love. "That smell _everywhere_ , a hot Creatrix under you, around you, wanting you buried inside him--" 

Jazz shouted and slammed forward, then every joint in his frame locked as he overloaded, his knot swelling inside of Mirage. It was more than enough to send the Creatrix over, each crying out shamelessly as their frames locked together. Hot, charge-rich fluid filled the space where Jazz's spike wasn't and sloshed around as it continued to release its charge into both of them.

"Primus that's hot to watch," Prowl shivered in enjoyment.

"Then next time you can do all of the watching," Jazz said with a gasping laugh before kissing Mirage and slumping down over him. "I got more than enough watching for a lifetime."

"You say that now. We'll see about it when we have our next chance," Prowl chuckled as he rubbed his mate's back. "I expect by the time it matters, we'll be rather good at taking him both at once."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," Mirage reminded them both calmly. His engines were purring and he had Jazz pulled tight against him, using his arms and legs to keep him there. Tied as they were, it wasn't at all necessary. 

"Right, sorry," Jazz said, nuzzling against him. "Just, _if_ we get there." 

"If we get there," Mirage allowed with a small smile as they drifted into recharge under the protective shield of Prowl on guard.


	7. Going Home

All three mecha looked up when they heard Skyfire approaching. Despite knowing who it was, that the shuttle was expected, both Jazz and Prowl tensed and drew weapons, placing themselves between the incoming noise and their carrying mate. Skyfire circled once and landed just out of firing range to let Ratchet exit. They waited until the shuttle transformed back into root mode to confirm that no one else was exiting, then Jazz stretched lazily and disarmed. Prowl efficiently powered down his pistol and slipped back into subspace, but neither moved away from Mirage as the medic drove over to them.

When Ratchet transformed, he scanned them all and focused in on Prowl as the most damaged. "Anyone critical?"

"Prowl's injuries are the worst," Jazz said. 

"Jazz will need follow-up work back at the Ark," Prowl added. 

"Mirage isn't hurt, just dirty and tired," Jazz finished. 

"Damn fools kindled, didn't you," Ratchet muttered as he knelt in front of Prowl and started a basic exam.

"Was there any real doubt once Jazz and I were on his scent?" Prowl asked as he stood compliantly still for Ratchet.

"S'pose not," Ratchet said. "Especially once we couldn't get Blue to tranq anyone but Jazz." 

"...He was watching?" Jazz asked. 

"For a bit, yeah, feel as though you deserve to know," Ratchet said.

"What reasoning did he give for refusing the order?" Prowl asked tensely.

"He wouldn't tranq Mirage because of, well, him being Mirage, he wouldn't go for you because you were too close and there was a risk of hitting Mirage instead," Ratchet grumbled as picked debris out of Prowl's shattered headlight and cauterized an open wire inside.

"Attar," Jazz and Prowl said in unison, causing Jazz to chuckle. 

"Seriously. Why not drag Percy out though? He's as good a shot as either of them."

"Perceptor?" Ratchet frowned at Jazz, wondering what the mech knew that the CMO didn't.

"Well, yeah, he should be. That scope has top notch magnifying and tracking capabilities, and he's Summa, so he's not going to be put off by a Creatrix in heat," Jazz shrugged.

"Frag," Ratchet grumbled. "We only grabbed Blue, didn't even tell anyone what we were doing or that we were leaving." 

"So the Summa that's been watching us," Jazz said. "That's a 'Bot, right?" 

"Yeah, that was Prime," Ratchet said.

"Not surprising. What has happened in the war since the last battle we were in?" Prowl requested.

"Nothing," Ratchet said. "It's been rubbish, they pulled back not long after Mirage left and it's been the same blasted stalemate since. Some skirmishes over human supplies, that's it."

"Old Buckethead is definitely past his prime," Jazz snickered.

"Indeed. The opportunity our absence represented could have been disastrous," Prowl agreed as Ratchet moved on to the tears in his abdominal plating. "He will not see this opportunity again."

"Yeah, and I'm betting things are gonna change, and fast," Ratchet said, shaking his head. 

"What did Bluestreak see?" Mirage asked.

Ratchet twitched, then dropped his voice so it didn't carry to Skyfire. "He saw Jazz offer himself to relieve Prowl's need. Saw the tie," he added without looking at any of them.

Prowl stilled even further and glanced at his mate.

"So ... do ah still have a job?" Jazz asked quietly.

"Yes," Ratchet growled firmly at him. "Prime, Blue, myself and the three of you are the only ones who know. Blue's kept it completely to himself."

"You're being awfully ... non-judgmental," Jazz said. 

Ratchet shrugged. "Like Prime said, it's stigma. I've seen worse things than mechs rutting during this war. Blue was a bit more, eh."

"He's Attar. It's _personal_ for him," Prowl suggested as much as said. "I'm surprised he's managed to remain silent."

"We'll talk to him, give him an outlet for his reaction," Jazz sighed.

"Might be good, think he's had his worldview flipped upside down," Ratchet said as he dusted his hands off. "Primus you lot are filthy. Mirage, I won't claim to be any kind of newspark specialist, but I did take a few courses on it back in the day. May I run a few scans?"

"Yes," the noble steadied himself, slipping into his old bearing. "You will have to do."

Jazz shot Ratchet a pleading look for tolerance, but the medic was already nodding, his temper in check.

"Your file says you've carried before," Ratchet said as he slowly moved the scanner up and down over Mirage's chest. "That will be useful, you'll have a better feel for anything going wrong than a first time carrier." 

"What can go wrong?" Jazz asked. 

"A lot, but most of it's rare," Ratchet said. "Biggest problems come from insufficient fuel, which, unless something drastic happens in the next metacycle, won't be a problem."

"Indeed," Prowl rumbled, his doorwing flaring. "That is not going to happen. The war and shortages will be over before our creation separates."

Ratchet gave him a wary look, then shook his helm and returned his focus to Mirage. "I'm not having you open your chamber until we're in a _clean_ environment," he said. "Skyfire is ready to leave as soon as you are."

"Then we are ready," Mirage said firmly. "I need energon, oil, a long stay in the SpecOps washrack and repairs, in that order."

"The first two can be handled on the flight back," Ratchet began.

"Washrack's all yours," Jazz spoke up. "Then we're all in for repairs."

"Agreed," Prowl nodded. "Who are you going to be with?" he asked Jazz as they began to walk to Skyfire as he came closer and transformed.

"You," Jazz leaned against his mate. "Raj'll want some time in there to think."

* * *

Less than an orn after they got back, Jazz found himself leaning against the door to Prime's office, listening to the thundering argument going on inside. The closed door was pointless; Jazz was pretty sure the entire Ark could hear. If not glyphs, their voices were at least loud enough that _who_ was arguing was not at all in question. Just that information was enough to put the entire population on edge. Prowl raised his voice only slightly more often than Prime did, and even when they disagreed, they simply did not go at it like this. It wasn't in either of their basic natures.

"It's over Mirage, isn't it?" Bluestreak's unnerved voice came close. "I mean, because he's carrying Prowl's creation. I can only imagine what it does to a loyal mecha like Prowl to feel his creation being threatened, but it can't be easy."

"Sure isn't," Jazz said, tilting his head at the young Praxian. Bluestreak was looking at him strangely. "How ya doin', Blue?"

"Still a little off from the heat-scent, but I'm okay. Still wish I'd convinced him before he bolted, but I guess that's just how things are," he shrugged, then winced at the sound of a fist impacting something hard. "I saw you, okay? It's ... Prime says I shouldn't feel this way, but I can't help it. Haven't told anyone else though. Not going to either. Just need some time to stop thinking about it."

Jazz shrugged. "Probably woulda bothered me as bad or worse when I was young, too," he said. "But it's just frames, Blue."

"Prime said it's love too," Bluestreak mumbled, wincing again as the roars increased in volume once more and he couldn't avoid catching that the fight was about ending the war and how many Cons it was okay to kill. "That you let him 'cause you love him."

"That too," Jazz said with a grin. "It's hardly his fault he was crazed like that, there was no point fighting about it. If it weren't for the war, we woulda bonded and shared 'Raj, and it wouldn't'a been an issue. A war that prevents mecha from lovin'? That's the real sick thing in all of this."

"I don't know if I want to love that much," Bluestreak admitted uneasily. "I mean, I want to be with somebody, but to offer like that...." he shuddered. "I'm glad it works for you though. Honest. You and Prowl have given everyone so much hope that there's a chance for the rest of us. I can't ruin that for everybody. We need you."

"Is it ruined for you?" Jazz asked quietly.

Bluestreak looked away sharply. "Love, a little bit." His doorwings drooped. "Respect ... more than I'd like."

Jazz just smiled, and kept the hurt out of his field and expression. "As long as ya still take orders, doesn't matter what ya think."

"No, I don't suppose it does," Bluestreak pulled himself together, as hard as it was. "I can, and I'm keeping quiet so no one else has to make that choice, sir."

The final glyph was barely out of his vocalizer before Bluestreak turned and did his best not to run away.

Jazz watched him go, then sighed and tilted his helm back to rest against the door, visor dimming. "Frag," he whispered to no one. 

The yelling behind him went on for another several groons, long enough for the entire Ark to stop by and see for themselves, before it abruptly ended and the door opened. Jazz straightened quickly as Prowl stalked out. 

"Fight over?" 

"We're taking a recess," the Praxian growled. 

Jazz tilted his head and regarded his mate's high, shaking doorwings, the furious cant they held, his clenched fists. "C'mon, let's go for a drive," he said, taking Prowl's hand and leading him along. He could teek the thanks through the roiling rage, and felt it too, in the way Prowl came willingly. Every mecha they passed scrambled out of the way. Then Sunstreaker didn't blink before pressing against the wall in total disregard to his finish rather than get any closer to Prowl than physics demanded.

Outside, under the dimming light of late evening, Jazz transformed, flashed his taillights and silently dared his mate to catch him.

He loved the way Prowl revved and accelerated after him as he shot into the wilderness, seeking out the winding roads that suited his alt mode. It didn't slow Prowl down, but it kept Jazz from getting caught too quickly. He'd never win a driving contest, but it was fun to make Prowl work for it. 

"Talked to Blue!" he yelled over to Prowl when the Praxian came nearly even with him.

::How is he?:: Prowl replied over a comm, the harmonics of his voice and field already more settled, though by no means calm.

::Oh, y'know, thinks I'm a freak and lost pretty much all of the respect he had for me, but he isn't going to spread the whys of it around,:: Jazz said, dodging around some farm equipment. 

::Then it is especially good the war will be over soon. The probability of that information remaining secret is only 63.2% at three metacycles,:: Prowl responded, apology in the harmonics.

::Since it's Blue ... yeah,:: Jazz said. ::Glad _you_ don't care.::

::I care Jazz. What you did was incredibly selfless and I appreciate it greatly.:: Prowl told him with genuine affection.

::Heh, I mean you don't care in the thinkin' I'm a giant freak,:: Jazz said, field a little strained as he tried to broadcast a smile through it. ::Plenty of Attars wouldn't do that even for love.::

::I know, love,:: Prowl trilled softly to him, his rage and agitation taking a back seat to his mate's distress. ::It makes you all the more special. More than I deserve at times.::

::I don't gross ya out now?:: Jazz asked.

::Not in the least, love,:: Prowl promised. ::You're the mech I gave my spark to. Nothing is going to change that.::

::Good,:: Jazz said, and his speed sagged for a second to mimic the very real sigh of relief that went through him before his engines roared and he swerved right into Prowl's path. ::Not even if I beat'ch'a aft?:: he taunted, before zooming on ahead.

::As if you can!:: Prowl roared into pursuit once more, sirens blaring and lights flashing.

Jazz laughed as he cut through the night, and made sure to give Prowl a good workout before they came anywhere close to returning to base.


	8. Consequences

Jazz panted over his mate, legs spread over Prowl's waist as the last aftershocks from their overload shivered through their frames. He slumped a moment before Prowl and tucked his helm under his chin, feeling the warmth of his spark beneath him. Prowl's field was teeking steadier than when they'd left the Ark, following yet another clash with the Prime. 

The arguments were getting shorter and less terrifying sounding, but Prowl still needed to burn off his frustration afterwards. "How ya feelin'?" Jazz asked. 

"Stable enough I'm unlikely to damage property or personnel," Prowl answered with a relieved sigh. "It's a most unpleasant sensation to be that angry with nothing to strike out at."

"Good," Jazz said, nuzzling him. "'Cause if y' calm enough, 'Raj needs some attention."

"Okay," Prowl gave his mate a curious look, not at all sure what the attention was going to be.

Jazz raised an optic ridge at him. "Ya can be kinda clueless sometimes, y'know?" he said. "It's a bit more complicated than making sure his creation is provided for. Ya know he lost his first creation when the Towers fell?"

"I did not," Prowl admitted, still not sure where this was going.

Jazz tapped his forehelm. "Tac-net didn't come with a interpersonal relationship center, I take it," he teased, before leaning and pressing his mouth against his mate's. It wasn't anything he didn't already know, that Prowl had trouble seeing emotional clues that weren't directly from a statement or field. Very early on, it had frustrated Jazz to no end that the Praxian took him at his word when he said he was fine when he really wasn't, but he'd learned. His mate was incredibly dedicated, giving and generous, as warm as anyone, but you had to ask for it clearly until he could place the more subtle indicators in a file to indicate their actual meaning. 

"I'll decipher the strange noble, you make the planet work," Jazz said and Prowl nodded, more than willing to agree to the split in duties to where their strengths were. "'Raj is fraggin' terrified of losin' another creation, and he got run down by his commander and two of the only mecha he even trusted anymore. He's upset, and he told me we could stop by if we wanted tonight after driving, which is 'Raj-speak for wantin' a shoulder."

Prowl processed that, and reflected it back on what he'd learned of Jazz over the long vorns. "He needs to be held and told things will be all right?"

"Yeah," Jazz said with a grin. "Exactly that. And _we_ ," he gestured between them, "Need ta help him feel like he's safe with us again."

"I will do my best," Prowl promised with a soft kiss. "Should we bring anything?"

"Just needs us," Jazz said as he kissed back. "But if you have any really nice energon he never says no to it."

"I do have some better than average cubes," Prowl purred. "Sideswipe does brew some very pleasant low-potency blends."

"Good, we'll swing by and get those, then cuddle him for a while," Jazz decided as he sat up, pulling Prowl with him. He couldn't resist nuzzling forward for a kiss. "Love ya, Prowler."

"As I love you," Prowl shivered in anticipation as a thought crossed his processor. "Within the vorn it should be safe enough to bond."

"Can't wait," Jazz purred as he stood and helped Prowl up to his pedes, then they were both on their tires and heading home. It was a comfortable silence for the drive, and the walk to Prowl's office where he kept his stash of special energon, picked up three cubes and headed for Mirage's quarters.

The spy welcomed them inside with a smile, and before the door was even locked, Jazz had his arms around him. Mirage had refused all visitors since getting back, and Jazz had genuinely missed him in that time. "How are ya?" he asked as he pulled back, hands on Mirage's arms.

"I'm fine," Mirage lied rather believably.

"I brought a rather pleasant energon blend," Prowl brought the cubes out. "Perhaps we can sit on the couch and share it?"

"That would be acceptable," Mirage said, and briefly clasped hands with Prowl before leading them to sit on either side of him. Jazz snuggled close, and Prowl followed suit, though with less confidence that he was welcome as they sipped their energon.

"How is our creation?" Prowl asked with a kiss to Mirage's cheek.

"Healthy," Mirage said, leaning into the kiss as much as was appropriate. "At least, according to Ratchet and Perceptor. It feels strong." 

"Good," Prowl murmured softly, his field pleased and his harmonics just as much. "Not all carriers are so good. I knew you were perfect."

"How're ya recharging?" Jazz asked softly, tracing the spy's helm. "Truth, now, 'Raj." 

Mirage drew in a vent, hesitated, then bowed his helm. "Not well." 

"How can we help?" Prowl asked sincerely.

"I don't know," Mirage murmured. "I continue to have dreams of being chased." 

"Do ya get caught, in the dreams?" Jazz asked. 

"Yes." 

"What happens?"

Mirage sighed and shifted his gaze away. 

Jazz tapped light fingers under his chin and brought his face back around. "Y' know how this goes," he said. 

"Are you to be my commander as well as my suitor?" Mirage asked with a small smile. 

"If I must," Jazz told him, and brushed their mouths together. 

Mirage sighed into the brief kiss, then drew away, helm bowed. "The Towers fall when I am caught," he said. "And I know that if I had hid better, they would still be standing."

Prowl looked bewildered, and focused on Jazz as he settled in to be a silent support.

"Is Setta in the Towers when they fall?" Jazz asked gently. 

"Every time," Mirage said with a bitter smile. 

"This creation won't share Setta's fate," Jazz said. 

"Because there are no more Towers, it is impossible," Mirage agreed. "But it could still die, and if it does, I am responsible." 

"Only as much as any mech is _responsible_ for their creation being killed," Jazz told him.

"If it dies in pain, or afraid--" Mirage said, vocalizer cracking as he broke off. His frame shook.

"It won't," Prowl said firmly. "I will not permit it."

Mirage's hands clenched into fists. "You can't think of everything." 

"Mirage," Prowl brought the noble's face around so they were looking at each other. "I will not permit our creation to come to harm."

Mirage only looked at him, mouth opening a bit as he tried to think of an answer. 

"How are talks with Prime going?" Jazz asked his mate as he rubbed Mirage's back, giving the noble some more time.

"He is weakening. I will win soon," Prowl said with grim confidence. "He will be a good Prime in peace. He simply has no capacity to make hard choices."

"One could argue that persisting in fighting for even the enemy's second chance is, in and of itself, a hard choice," Mirage said, but there was no argument in his voice or field. "He will be a good Prime."

"That is insanity," Prowl snorted. "To value the enemy's lives over your own troops is traitorous."

Jazz quickly leaned over to stop the debate before it could start with a finger to each of their mouths. "He'll be a good Prime, once he has a planet, we can all agree on that," he said. "A safe planet _is_ possible, that's what matters," he added, stressing the point that they needed for their carrier's benefit. 

Thankfully Prowl accepted the silencing, and Mirage nodded slightly.

"Safe ... can our race really adapt to that?" Mirage murmured.

"'Raj, lovely, if they can't, I will personally find a utopia and fly you there," Jazz said. "I know y' scared, and ... honestly, so am I. Don't think I've ever had anythin' ta do with a sparkling that wasn't me. And I can't tell ya how awful we both feel about runnin' ya down like that, there's just ... there's nothing else in the world when y' can smell heat like that, _nothing._ Tried fightin' it, but..." 

"I know," Mirage said with a small sigh. "Truth be told, I ... I might have tried harder to get away. I don't know. It was so hard to think." 

"It is designed that way for some reason," Prowl sighed. "A cruelty to be sure, but one no one has been able to strip from us."

"I think someone did, and that's why we have Summa, but that's just a theory," Jazz shrugged. "Regardless, the three of us got into this together, we'll see it through together. We want you ta feel safe around us. We'll do whatever we gotta."

Mirage nodded slightly, then relaxed against Jazz. "I do feel safe around you," he said. 

Jazz kissed the top of his helm and hummed happily as Prowl joined them. "'S gonna be all right," he promised. "You worry about makin' that bitlet, and we'll get the rest."

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: Transformers G1 AU  
> Author: gatekat and vaevade on LJ  
> Pairing: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Mirage, Jazz/Prowl/Mirage, Mirage/Ratchet  
> Rating: NC-17 for mech/mech  
> Codes: Heat-Fic, Non-con, Dub-con, Consensual, Sticky, Mech preg, Violence  
> Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page <http://www.gatekat-fics.livejournal.com/290.html>. We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
> Notes:  
> Attar (sire), Creatrix (carrier), Summa (neutral/neuter)  
> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years; 
> 
> From: <http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=14659989#t14659989> (deleted)  
> reposted <http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=14666389#t14666389> (though now taking Prowl off the alpha list. Don't care.)
> 
> Mirage is in heat, having known beforehand of the coming date he has taken precautions to isolate/ imprison himself from the rest of the Ark to avoid any ' casualties', this course of action was supported by First Aid, Red Alert and Ratchet. The alphas within the ship attempt to break into Mirage's haven and ease his arousal but he refuses to interface with any of them. Everything seems to be working well for him, despite the maddening arousal and depraved thoughts and desperate need for release, until the Ark is attacked ( or whatever the AA decides that forces Mirage to leave) to find another hidding spot away from civilization and the two ships. However, he soon realizes he is being followed. He spends hours on the run, stubbornly fighting his coding incenting him to let the Alpha claim him. Ultimately, after a long and exhaspetating chase, Mirage is hunted down by his stalker(s). In the mist of the capture they interface, wild, raw and rough. When they awaken the following mkrning, mirage finds himself bound and at yhe alphas mercy - the alpha tries to verbally get mirage to consent, but Mirage is far too stubborn to accept and thus the alpha decides to take his time to have the noble consent which he lastly does. They continue from there,both participants equally insatiable, their last interface is sweet, slow and sensual. AA can decide the terms on how the mechs depart and the consequences, if any?  
> All in all it starts dubious but ends fully consensual.
> 
> Kinks: (either PNP or sticky works)  
> \- the chase ( the hunting mech(s) taunt mirage while chasing him down, playing and teasing him, making him believe he is going to escape until the last moment)  
> \- pampering ( the alpha getting Mirage to give in)  
> \- verbal taunting ( dirty talk?)  
> \- asphyxiation ( collar and leash, choking)  
> \- bondage  
> \- spanking  
> \- oral/ rimming  
> \- slight fluff at the end ( if Mirage's the one to spoon the other mech eveeeen better lol)  
> \- knotting  
> \- sparkplay
> 
> Bonus:  
> The alpha(s) could be: Thundercracker, Soundwave,Sixshot Onslaught, Hook, Bliztwing, Predaking, Astrotrain, Ironhide, Ultra Magnus, Jazz, Inferno, Blurr, Grimlock, Blaster, Springer, Silverbolt.
> 
> It's been so long since I've read anything involving Mirage. He's one of my favorite Autobots and would love to see something with him with literary anyone but Cliffjumper and Hound.
> 
> I'll gladly write a response fic to whomever writes this :)


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